<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Paris Holds the Key (To Your Heart) by Jazzblades</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965283">Paris Holds the Key (To Your Heart)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazzblades/pseuds/Jazzblades'>Jazzblades</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anastasia (1997), Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(don't worry it's just the bad guy), Anastasia AU, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Found Family, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:22:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazzblades/pseuds/Jazzblades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the year 1916 and Bruce was the Tsar of all Russia. His beloved children and the man who had raised him by his side. He dreamed that they would be together forever. This peace would not last, however. So many lives were destroyed in a single night and what had always been was now gone forever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne/Slade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone and welcome to the fic! Couple things I wanted to bring up: I did use direct quotes from the film as well as my own versions of lines to fit into my story. Romance is in the story but it is not at the fore-front, this is mostly about Bruce and his family. I'm also planning to post a couple chapters every week or so as I finish my edits. I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Russia, 1916</strong>
</p><p>There was a time not too long ago filled with elegant palaces and grand parties. It was the year 1916 and Bruce was the Tsar of all Russia. The celebration was for the 300<sup>th</sup> anniversary of the reign of the Wayne family. Dancers were twirling in their lines as music filled the ornate throne room. The room was filled with life and joy and so much excitement. Bruce sat on his throne watching as his children danced to the lively tune the musicians were playing.</p><p>His eldest, Dick, held his youngest, Damian, in his arms. He spun them around giggling at the squealing child held tightly in his embrace. The other three, Jason, Cassandra, and Timothy, went around and around in a circle holding tight to each other’s hands; they were content in their imitation of a dance. Bruce had a wide smile on his face, overjoyed at seeing his children so happy and carefree.</p><p>“Papa!” Dick called out, trying to get his father’s attention. Bruce turned to his child. Dick gestured for him to come join them in their revelry. The lord of men stepped down from his dais and was met with such excitement from all five of them. His smile only grew.</p><p>Dick placed the baby carefully in Bruce’s outstretched arms and made his way quickly over to join his siblings in their little circle. Bruce held his baby close to his chest, lightly resting his cheek atop his son’s tiny head. He swayed slowly to the music, hoping to soothe the child he carried. A small hand clung tightly to the sash laid across his chest. The tiny babe yawned widely, lulled to sleep by the gentle movements of his father. He gently pressed his lips to the wisps of hair on top of his son’s head. Damian was still so small. He could not believe this child was only a year old. He looked up and stared adoringly at his little menagerie as they broke apart and attempted to outdo one another with more and more theatrical stunts. Dick did a quick showy flip he had learned from his previous life in the circus. Jason huffed out an exasperated breath knowing that his older brother had beaten them.</p><p>Sweet Cassandra decided to wander away from her now arguing brothers to come join Bruce and Damian. Bruce felt a gentle pull on his pant leg. He looked down into his daughter’s warm brown eyes and leaned down to kiss her softly on her forehead. When he drew back from her, she gave him such a radiant smile that made him feel as if his heart might burst with adoration for these amazing little beings.</p><p>It was a good night. They were all happy. They were all safe. He loved all them more than anything. They would be together, forever.</p><p>They would not get forever.</p><p>A dark shadow had descended upon the house of the Wayne’s. His name was Ra’s al Ghul. It was thought that he was a holy man, but he was a fraud. He was power mad and dangerous. The crowd gasped and retreated away from the man bedecked in finery fitting a man of a higher station. The crowd all feared what he might do. The look in his eyes foretold nothing but misery.</p><p>Bruce handed his youngest back to Dick, the children all forming ranks behind him. He glanced back to them before he stepped forward to intercept the interloper. “How dare you return to the palace.”</p><p>“Me? But I am your most trusted confidant.” The intruder’s tone was luxuriant, and he seemed almost offended that Bruce would dare speak to him in such a manner.</p><p>“Confidant?” Bruce spat. “You are a traitor. Get out!”</p><p>“You think you can punish <em>me</em>, the great Ra’s al Ghul?” The shadow man stepped closer to Bruce, his eyes alight with a look of utter hatred. “By the unholy powers invested in me, I punish <em>you</em> with a curse.” He jabbed a finger into Bruce’s face. Bruce recoiled away from the man he had once entrusted his life to. Gasps of horror rang out into the tense atmosphere of the once lively room. An older gentleman with a silver mustache hurried over and began to usher the royal children away from the commotion, trying to get them as far away from the mad man as possible.</p><p>“Mark my words,” Ra’s al Ghul raised his voice to be heard over the whispering crowd, “You and your family will be dead within a fortnight! I will not <em>rest</em> until I see the end of the Wayne family line, forever!” Bruce froze. A man he had once called friend had just threatened his family, his <em>children</em>. He would not, could not, let this stand. No one threatened his family.</p><p>Bruce turned to check that Alfred had gotten them all safely away. When he turned back around to face this person, who was now more monster than man, the grand chandelier dropped from the high ceiling into the center of the dance floor shattering into a million pieces. Ra’s al Ghul was gone.</p><p>Ra’s was so consumed with his hatred for Bruce that he had sold his soul for the power to destroy him. From that moment on, the spark of unhappiness in the country was fanned into a flame that would soon destroy the lives of the royal family forever.</p><p>Bruce could see the approaching mob break through the gate to the palace. The threat they posed ever more imminent. He gathered his children around him trying to figure a way out without running into anyone who wished to see them dead. He needed a way to keep his precious family safe. There was so little time. He could now hear the angry mob beating down his door. They had a scant few moments at best before they would be overrun. He held Damian tightly in one arm while his other hand clung tightly to little Timothy’s. Tears were streaming down all their faces. Bruce never wanted to see them so afraid.</p><p>“Papa.” Jason called out pointing towards a man racing towards them. Bruce recognized him; he worked in the palace. He was taller and broader than Bruce was with hair almost as white as the snow outside.</p><p>“Come with me, Your Majesty.” His tone was soft, and his eyes were kind. Bruce wondered how a man like him came to be here in the palace. Once he got a nod from Bruce, he continued on past them and gestured for them to follow. Bruce hastily trailed after the man, all his children and Alfred in tow. The stranger brought them to a room he could swear he had never been in before and approached a wall next to the fireplace. It wasn’t any ordinary wall. It opened like a door leading down into a secret passageway. Bruce was astonished. How had he never known something like this existed in his own home? How did this man know of it?</p><p>After Bruce and his family had gone through the opening, he turned back to the man and stood waiting for him to follow them. He did not. Their eyes met for just a brief moment before the man ripped his gaze away and swiftly closed the wall once more, blocking out the ever-increasing sounds of anger and pain and fear.</p><p> Bruce took a couple measured breaths then strode onwards following the dimly lit path. They soon reached a grate that let them out into a busy street he hardly recognized. Said street was filled with the cries of panicking people as they ran for their lives. Bruce pushed his way through the mass of bodies to the nearest station; his children in a line behind him with Alfred in the rear. Once they reached the nearest train, Bruce urged Dick to get on first and then started handing his other siblings up to him. Bruce made sure Alfred was up there with them. A sudden rush of people made a mad dash towards the almost full train. A group of harried station attendants moved to push back against the mass of bodies. Bruce got pushed back, as well.</p><p>“Papa!” His children screamed out.</p><p>“Don’t worry! I’ll meet you in Paris!” He yelled as loudly as he could, hoping beyond hope that they had heard him. The train began moving away. Bruce pushed and shoved his way back towards his family trying to reach the now moving locomotive; trying to get to his children. Dick reached out one of his hands, grasping for his father’s outstretched one. Bruce’s foot somehow snagged on a loose plank and he fell hitting his head on the unforgiving platform. The last thing Bruce heard before his world went dark was the distant cries of his children yelling out Papa and a deeper voice calling out his name.</p><p>So many lives were destroyed that night. What had always been was now gone forever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>St. Petersburg, 1926</strong>
</p><p>The year was 1926. The month was September. The day was the twenty-fourth.</p><p> Bruce made his way down the crowded street towards his most recent place of employment. It was a small business tucked in between a butcher’s shop and Mama Varna’s Apothecary. The owner was a wisp of a man, barely coming up to Bruce’s shoulder. The man sold many different odds and ends; some, he claimed, came from the palace itself. Bruce didn’t quite believe that. Why would anyone want to go to that shell of a place?</p><p>He pushed upon the door and heard the tell-tale ringing of the bell signaling his entrance.</p><p>“You’re late.” The man behind the counter grumbled.</p><p>“I apologize. There was a large group of people blocking my normal route…” Bruce began.</p><p>“I don’t care for your excuses.” Bruce watched as the man angrily marched from behind the counter to address him more directly. “Here is last week’s pay. Now get out of my shop. I don’t want you mucking about any longer. Go! Get!” He shoved the money into Bruce’s hand and then began jostling him out of his shop. The bell above the door jangled loudly as it was slammed shut behind him.</p><p>Bruce sighed. This was the third job this month that had let him go. How was he ever going to get to Paris if he didn’t have enough money for a ticket?</p><p>Bruce trudged along the snowy street; hands buried deep in his worn, raggedy coat. The wind was bitingly cold, and it would not be any better in the tiny room he had been staying in. He couldn’t even pay for the room again tonight, so he would have to, most likely, sleep on the street. Maybe this would be enough to get him part of the way to Paris. He could try at least. Where was the harm in that?</p><p>Feeling a newfound purpose, he marched back to the boarding house. He really had nothing else to lose. All he really had were the clothes on his back and the ring on his finger to take with him. He would go to Paris. He knew in his heart of hearts that was where he would find the person he’s been searching for. He remembers a vague image of them. Wide grins, freckles, brown-eyes, small hands, soft wispy hair. He remembers yelling that he would meet them in Paris. That is the last thing he remembers before he woke up in that hospital ten years ago.</p><p>Bruce ambled his way up to his borrowed room, pulling together all the money he had hidden under one of the loose floorboards under the bed. He checked over the bare room to make sure he was not forgetting anything. When he felt satisfied with his search, he made his way back down the narrow staircase to the front desk. He dropped the key off with the man currently stationed there, gave him a nod in acknowledgement, and walked back out into the cold.</p><p>The train station was a little bit of a walk from the boarding house, but he could make it in fifteen or so minutes. By the time he got there, however, he could barely feel his toes. He went to go stand in one of the many lines for the ticket booths. When he finally reached the front, he pulled the money out from his pocket presenting it to the ticket master. “One ticket to Paris, please.”</p><p>The man turned his nose up at the crumpled money in front of him. “Papers?” He asked, a sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.</p><p>Papers? Bruce didn’t have a last name, let alone papers. What was he going to do?</p><p>“I don’t have papers.” Bruce quietly supplied.</p><p>“No papers, no ticket!” The man roared, closing the shutters violently in Bruce’s face. Bruce reeled back in shock at the harshness he had been met with. An older woman behind him tapped him gently on the shoulder and motioned for him to lean down so she could whisper something in his ear. </p><p>“Find Slade Wilson. <em>He</em> can get you to Paris.” She gave him a smile filled with missing teeth.</p><p>“Where can I find this Slade Wilson?” Bruce inquired, keeping his voice just as low.</p><p>“He is set up in the old palace, but you didn’t hear it from me.”</p><p>“Thank you.” He slipped a small bill into her hand and walked away from the line. Now he had to go find this Slade Wilson. Why was he in the palace? Of all places? Bruce sighed, but decided this would be his best bet to get to Paris.</p><p>The journey was long and bitterly cold. Bruce continued to grumble to himself about strange men hiding in wretched locations. Finally, he reached the base of the hill that the castle rested at the top of. This better be worth it, Bruce thought bitterly. The climb was slow going but he did manage to make it to the top without freezing to death. He slowly approached the nearest boarded up window. “Hello?” He called out, peering through a crack between planks. “Is anyone in there?” He put a little too much weight against the boards and he crashed through the window falling unceremoniously into a heap of splintered wood upon the ground. He hoped no one had heard that debacle. He quickly pulled himself to standing and brushed off the dust and splinters clinging to his clothes.</p><p>He looked around at his surroundings, taking note that he was in a large dining area. There were still dishes set at the table. Bruce wandered over and picked up one of the serving platters, wiping the dust from the tray. He could now see his reflection. He almost dropped it in surprise. He thought he caught a glimpse of someone behind him. He spun around to see if anyone was with him in the room. There was nothing but the wind and snow. He placed the platter carefully back on the table and began to make his way to the nearest door. He quietly pulled it open releasing a sigh of relief as it made no sound upon opening. Bruce stepped lightly so as not to disturb the quiet, mournful place. He just wanted to find this Slade Wilson so he could get to Paris.</p><p>He wandered through many different hallways staring at things that seemed almost familiar to him… But that couldn’t be… He shook his head trying to shake those strange thoughts from his mind. Bruce now stood on a landing of one of the grand staircases; a portrait of a family sat on the wall behind him. Staring intently at the figures in the painting, he could have sworn he knew these people.</p><p> A man with dark hair, a clean-shaven face, and light blue eyes sat upon a red lined chair. A small child, with the greenest eyes he had ever seen, sat in his lap and there were four more children surrounding him. The oldest, he assumed from his size compared to the others, leaned over the back of the chair with a wide grin and a look of mischief on his face. The little girl stood to the man’s left. Even as a painting he could tell she had such warm, knowing eyes. Standing to the man’s right were two more boys with dark hair and light eyes. The one right next to the chair was holding the man’s hand tightly in his own small one and he seemed far older than his slight stature conveyed. The boy next to him had a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and the look on his face was one of challenge.</p><p>Bruce stared at all of them for far longer than he probably should have. Why did he feel like he knew them? This must be the royal family. Why would he, of all people, know any of them?</p><p>Bruce was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of someone speaking behind him. “What are you doing?”  He whipped around to see a large man at the base of the stairs. Bruce startled and turned to race back up the way he had come. “Stop! Stop, stop, stop.” The words pulled him up short and he turned to face the man again. “How did you get in here?” He was now a few steps below Bruce. The stranger was taller than him by at least a couple inches, he also had shockingly white hair. He was still quite intimidating, even standing below him.</p><p>“Are you Slade Wilson?” He questioned, eyeing the man suspiciously.</p><p>“Perhaps. Depends on who’s asking for him.” The man gave Bruce a sultry smirk.</p><p>“My name’s Bruce. I need travel papers.” He explained. “Someone told me you’re the man to see, even though I can’t tell you who said that. And what…” Bruce cut off suddenly. “Why are you circling me? What, were you a vulture in another life?”</p><p>The man chuckled, coming back to face Bruce directly, “It’s just you look an awful lot like…” He paused. “Never mind. You said something about travel papers?”</p><p>“Yes. I’d like to go to Paris.” Bruce squared his shoulders.</p><p>“You’d like to go to Paris?” He somehow seemed amused by the idea. “Now let me ask you something, Bruce, was it?” Slade Wilson quirked a single eyebrow up in question. “There a last name that goes with that?”</p><p>Bruce crossed his arms over his chest, dropping his eyes to the floor. “Well, actually…” He began. “This is going to sound crazy, but I don’t know my last name. The last thing I remember is waking up in a hospital one day years ago.”</p><p>“And before that?”</p><p>“I know it’s strange, but I don’t remember. I have very few memories of my past.” Talking about his lack memories was difficult. He has tried his best to piece together as much as he could based on just the little things he <em>could</em> remember. Wilson really could be the key to his past.</p><p>“Hm. That’s perfect.” Slade Wilson said almost under his breath.</p><p>“I do have one clue though.” Bruce interjected, hoping he could convince this man to help him. “And that’s Paris.”</p><p>“Paris?”</p><p>“Right. So, can you help me or not?” His tone was exasperated. Why did this man feel the need to interrogate him?</p><p>Slade Wilson gave him another sly smile. “I sure would like to. In fact, oddly enough, I’m heading to Paris myself. And I have two tickets right here.” He held up two booklets, then placed them back into one of his pockets. “Unfortunately, the second one is for him.” He made a vague gesture at the painting behind Bruce. “His Imperial Majesty. I’m going to reunite him with his family.” Bruce’s lips turned down in a frown. Was he serious? Did he really think he would be the one to find someone who has been missing for almost a decade? “You do kind of resemble him.”</p><p>Bruce took a step back, shocked. “Are you trying to tell me you think <em>I’m</em> the missing tsar?”</p><p>“I’ve seen thousands of men all over the country and not one of them looks as much like him as you. Look at the portrait.” He pointed to the portrait in question, right at the man himself.</p><p>“I knew you were crazy.” Bruce spat, his tone one of total disbelief. He should leave now; this man had truly lost his mind if he thought Bruce was the missing royal. “But now I think you are <em>completely</em> mad.”</p><p>“Why?” Slade Wilson shot him a look, “You don’t remember what happened to you. No one knows what happened to <em>him</em>.” He paused, taking in a deep breath before continuing, “You’re looking for family in Paris and his only family <em>is </em>in Paris. Have you ever thought about the possibility?” Slade Wilson took a step closer to Bruce, his tone gentle.</p><p>“That I could be royalty? Well, it is kind of hard to imagine yourself as a king when you’re sleeping on a damp floor, but sure everyone would hope they’re royalty.”</p><p>Wilson took another step forward. “And out there, someone is.” Suddenly, he pulled away and started walking away. “I sure wish I could help, but the second ticket’s for the tsar, and him only.” He gave a jaunty salute. “Good luck.” He had made his way all the way down the stairs and was sauntering away.</p><p>Bruce looked back at the portrait, considering. What could it hurt? They did look similar enough and it <em>would</em> get him to Paris. He spun around, racing to catch up with the other man. “Wait! Wilson!”</p><p>The man in question turned back around. “Did you call for me?”</p><p>“If I don’t remember who I am, then who is to say I’m not the missing tsar, right?”</p><p>“Go on.” Wilson looked quite smug, like the cat that got the cream.</p><p>“If I’m not this missing royal, the family will know right away, and we can say it was just an honest mistake.” Bruce stepped closer to the man, trying to convince himself as much as this stranger.</p><p>Wilson raised a hand to his chin, stroking his beard in consideration. “Sounds plausible. But if you are the tsar then you’ll finally know who you are and have your family back. Either way it gets you to Paris.” He grabbed Bruce’s hand and turned to the empty space in front of them. “May I present His Imperial Majesty, Bruce, the Sovereign of Russia!”</p><p>Bruce let out a shocked laugh, amused at the antics of this strange man. He held onto his smile as Wilson turned back, smiling, towards him. “We’re going to Paris.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Paris, 1926</strong>
</p><p>It has been ten years. Ten long years. Dick has spent that time caring for his siblings, wishing and hoping that one day their father would burst through the front door and pull them all into his arms and never let them go again. Every day after their escape from the palace Dick has waited. Bruce had promised. He told them he would meet them in Paris. Where was he?</p><p>He was losing more and more hope that their father would ever be returned to them. There were so many people claiming to be the long, lost tsar, but Dick knew. Dick would always know. None of them were him. He was heartbroken. Each new candidate just broke his already shattered heart even more. Could they not leave his family in peace? Vultures, all of them.</p><p>He was so tired of this song and dance. He had taken it upon himself to see all these potential Bruce’s so that he could spare his beloved siblings from the pain of having to face them and have none of them be the man they truly wanted. Needed.</p><p>Dick had aged so much in this past decade. He was now a grown twenty-three-year-old aristocrat living the high life in the grand city of Paris. Or that was how the papers described him. He missed his old life. He missed the palace that had been so full of warmth and love. He missed Bruce. He wanted his Papa to come home. That is all he wanted.</p><p>“Dick?” Tim poked his head around the cracked door, his vibrant blue eyes observing Dick’s slumped form.</p><p>Dick gave a small smile in return. He loved his siblings more than life itself. He would do anything for them; do anything to make sure they’re happy and safe. “Did you need something, Tim?”</p><p>“Stephanie’s here. She says she has something to discuss with you.” Tim stepped more fully into the room. “It’s about your search for Papa, isn’t it?” Tim, clever Tim, always seeing right through Dick.</p><p>“Yes.” He couldn’t lie to him.</p><p>“It’s never been him. Why do you keep seeing them? You’re just torturing yourself at this point.” Dick could see the frustration rising in him. “You putting up a reward for finding Papa was one of your more idiotic ideas.” Tim crossed his arms over his chest, brows furrowing. Even though they are not actually related, Tim began to resemble Bruce a little bit more every year. Like right at this moment.</p><p>Dick knew where Tim was coming from. He knows his siblings worry about him, but he’s the oldest, it’s <em>his</em> job to look after <em>them. </em>But he understands. He has had similar thoughts himself many times before.</p><p>“I know, Tim.” He rose from his seat at his desk and made his way over to his brother. He placed both his hands on the teen’s bony shoulders. “But I have to try. I know he’s out there somewhere. I can <em>feel</em> it.” He emphasized his point by gently squeezing the shoulders in his grasp. “And if I have to see a thousand more poor imitations before we find him, I’ll do it.” Dick stared directly at Tim, urging him with his eyes to understand why he was doing this, even with all the heartache he’s had to endure.</p><p>“Master Richard.” Alfred’s voice interrupted the quiet moment between the brothers.</p><p>“Yes, Alfred?”</p><p>“Miss Brown is waiting in the parlor with Mistress Cassandra. She says the matter she wishes to discuss isn’t urgent, but she will have to make her leave soon.”</p><p>“Thank you, Alfred. I’ll be down in a moment.” Dick’s voice was soft, and he gave the older man a gentle smile.</p><p>“Very well, sire.” Alfred gave a quick bow and walked briskly from the room. To go tell Stephanie that he would be on his way, Dick imagined.</p><p>Dick looked down at Tim one more time. “It’ll happen one day. We just have to have hope.” He could tell Tim didn’t quite believe him but was conceding because he knew his older brother would not back down. Dick was as stubborn as they came. He gave one last smile, patted Tim’s shoulder a couple times, then made his way out the door and down the stairs.</p><p>Hopefully Stephanie had good news for him. She was interesting to say the least. He hadn’t expected the bubbly blonde to stick around for as long as she has. Her, Tim, and Cass were nearly inseparable. She had helped his siblings come out of their shells and he was eternally grateful for it. Stephanie, upon finding out about Dick’s search for their father, decided she could vet the candidates before Dick would make the final decision. He was thankful for her help in this regard too. He had to see less and less people claiming to be Bruce because of her actions. She was already such a strong fierce woman at just eighteen years old, just like his little sister.</p><p>He finally made it to the entrance to the parlor where Alfred, ever proper, stood waiting for him. Dick gave the man he considered to be their grandfather a warm grin and turned to face his fate.</p><p>He entered the room and spotted Stephanie’s golden curls right away, then he caught sight of Cass’s smiling face. His sister gave him an enthusiastic wave which he returned with a sharp bark of laughter. He didn’t know how he would have survived all these years without all his siblings around to cheer him up or set him straight.</p><p>“I heard you had something to discuss with me.” Might as well get straight to the point.</p><p>Cass stood from her spot on the couch and gave her friend a hug then walked to Dick, kissing him on the cheek before slipping out the door. She was probably going to bother one of her other brothers. At least, that is what Dick assumed she was going to do.</p><p>“I didn’t bring anyone to meet with you today,” Stephanie began, “I’m here to ask if you can give me different questions for my interviews. I’m afraid the new candidates have been memorizing the answers to our previous questions, so I’ve been passing more of them than before.” She looked upset at having to tell him this news.</p><p>Dick sat himself down upon one of the armchairs across from her. He looked down towards the hands in his lap. A sigh passed through his lips, “I should have known they would do something like this. I’ve heard word from one of my sources back in Russia that there is a man in St. Petersburg auditioning and coaching these “Bruce’s.”” Dick spat. He didn’t ever want to meet the man who thought it was alright to do something like that. “I think you’re right. We need to ask them something only the real Bruce would know.” Dick leaned back in his seat, rubbing his chin in thought.</p><p>“Do you think that would work?” Stephanie questioned. Dick raised his gaze to meet her worried eyes.</p><p>“It has to. My family can only take so much more of this, Stephanie. I don’t want them to get their hopes up only for them to be crushed as quickly as they come.” He was so tired of these con men trying to get his family’s money by imitating their Papa. He hated every single one of them. He understood that many people just wanted or needed the reward, but he wanted his father back. Why couldn’t they understand that?</p><p>Fate had taken him away from them. Why couldn’t fate bring him back?</p><p>“What do you want me to ask them?”</p><p>Dick considered the question for a moment. He looked directly into her eyes. “Ask how he escaped the siege on the palace.”</p><p>Stephanie gave him a puzzled look, “But how will I know if they give me the right answer?”</p><p>Dick leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “He will tell you that the wall opened.”</p><p>“The wall opened?” Stephanie somehow looked even more confused.</p><p>“Yes.” Dick said, gaze never wavering.</p><p>She leaned further back into the couch letting out a puff of breath and crossing her arms, “Alright.” She conceded, “I hope we find him.”</p><p>“I hope so too. I’ve been dreaming of it since I was thirteen years old.” Dick stared off into the distance lost in a memory of that fateful day. The day where Bruce disappeared from their sight as they screamed for him.</p><p>Alfred had ushered them all inside the train as it gained speed away from Russia, away from their home, away from their Papa. Dick pulled his siblings closer to himself once they were settled. They all had tears trailing down their faces, but otherwise were completely silent. Dick could barely process what had just happened. People had attacked their home. They had barely made it out alive. If it weren’t for that man, his family would be dead. It had all been so chaotic. Dick tried to reach for him, tried so <em>hard</em>. He doesn’t know what happened! One moment he was staring at his father, the next…he was just gone. He remembers screaming for him, he remembers his siblings crying out with him, he remembers strong arms grabbing at him and pulling him away from the edge of the train, urging him and his siblings inside. Paris. They would meet Papa in Paris. That’s what he said, so that is where they would go. And that is where they would stay.</p><p>“Sire?”  Dick was pulled from his reverie at the sound of Stephanie’s voice. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Just…remembering.” He murmured.</p><p>“I should be going now. I’ll be in touch again in a few days.” She stood from her seat giving him a small curtesy then made her way out of the room. Dick watched her go.</p><p>As soon as she was gone another figure stepped through the still open door.</p><p>“You sure about this, Dickie?” Dick put his head in his hands. No. No, he was not sure about any of this. Slowly he stood from his seat, returning to the regal posture taught to him by Bruce himself.</p><p>“No, I’m not. But that’s never stopped us before.” Jason sighed, sticking his hands in his pants pockets.</p><p>“I’m worried…” Jason was one of those people who could go right to the heart of the issue. His siblings did not beat around the bush if they could help it.</p><p>“I know. Believe me I know.” Dick tried to soothe his brother. “I’m going to hold out hope for just a little while longer.”</p><p>“Dickie,” Jason began. The look in his eyes was so sad. “It’s been ten years.”</p><p>“I know that!” He shouted, then quickly faced the window, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He didn’t mean to yell; he was just so…frustrated. “Just a little longer. That’s all I’m asking.” Dick could practically hear Jason’s eye roll.</p><p>“One more year. And then you need to stop.”</p><p>Dick almost let out a sob, “Jason…” He had to take a deep breath; he did not want to cry in front of his little brother. He was their rock, their safe place. He had to be strong for them.</p><p>“If he hasn’t come back to us by this time next year you have to end this. No more reward, no more interviews, no more search.” Why did he have to say that? Why did Jason have to be the voice of reason? “This is killing you, Dick. I miss him too. I would give anything to get him back. But I don’t want to lose you in the process. I can’t.” His voice was barely a whisper when he got to the last few words.</p><p>Dick spun back around to face Jason, having to look up to meet his eyes. Jason was now about as tall and broad as Bruce had…is. As Bruce is. When did his little brother get so big? He felt like he blinked and the next moment his brothers and sister were grown-up. “Alright. I’ll give it one more year.”</p><p>Jason gave a crooked, hesitant smile. “That’s all I ask.”</p><p>Dick pulled him into his arms, feeling the rise and fall of his brother’s breath under his hands. One more year. Bruce only had a year before Dick would have to stop searching for him. He owed the rest of his family that much at least. He could not keep getting their hopes up for nothing. He didn’t want to hurt them anymore than he already had.</p><p>He heard the front door opening and closing signaling the return of their youngest from school. They had all agreed that Damian would benefit from socializing with peers his own age. He had barely talked to them for days after they had told him.</p><p>He released Jason, giving him a tight, but genuine smile. “I’m going to go check on Damian.” He turned to leave the room but stopped at the sound of Jason’s voice.</p><p>“Please, don’t tell anyone about our deal. I…” He sucked in a breath, “I should be the one to tell them.” His eyes were pleading with Dick.</p><p>“Okay.” Dick agreed. He strode through the door and made a beeline for the kitchen. “Damian!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Somewhere Outside St. Petersburg, 1926</strong>
</p><p>Slade Wilson had really done it. They were on a train heading straight for Paris. He was going to Paris! He might finally find out who he really is, find who he has been searching for all these long years. And, in a very unexpected turn of events, he might be the missing tsar. At least that is what Wilson thinks. Bruce is still trying to wrap his head around the idea that he <em>might </em>be royalty. And that he had children. Five of them. How could he have forgotten them? Why had he forgotten them? Were his kids looking for <em>him</em>? It has been ten years since he woke up in that hospital... So how old would his children be now? Would they even be able to recognize him?</p><p>He was pulled from his musings by Wilson entering their room on the train. “Where have you been?”</p><p>Wilson regarded him for a moment before moving to place his bag in the overhead storage. “Just around. Gathering information.” Bruce didn’t quite believe that. He huffed out a breath and began fiddling with the ring on his finger. Wilson faced Bruce again giving him an assessing look. “Stop fiddling with that. Sit up straight. Remember, you’re a king.”</p><p>Bruce glared up at him, stopping his fiddling in the process. “How do you know what kings do or don’t do?”</p><p>“I make it my business to know.” He stated cryptically.</p><p>“Do you really think I’m royalty?” Bruce questioned.</p><p>“You know I do.” Wilson sat down next to him, tone sincere.</p><p>“Then stop bossing me around.” Bruce grumbled. He turned away to face the window, watching as Russia passed them by, beginning to fiddle with his ring again.</p><p>“Look,” Wilson began, “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”</p><p>“I think we did too, and I appreciate your apology.”</p><p>“Apology?” Wilson looked honestly confused. “An apology? I was just saying…”</p><p>Bruce quickly interrupted him, “Please, don’t talk anymore. It’s only going to upset me.”</p><p>The man next to him let out a frustrated puff of air through his nose. “Fine. I’ll be quiet if you will.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll be quiet.” Bruce conceded.</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Fine.” There was a brief stretch of time where neither of them spoke. “Think you’ll miss it?”</p><p>“Miss what, your talking?” Bruce could tell Wilson was growing more and more frustrated.</p><p>“No. Russia.” Bruce corrected.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“But it’s your home.”</p><p>Wilson stared out at the passing landscape, a look of disgust in his eyes. “It was a place I once lived.”</p><p>Bruce had not expected Wilson to harbor such anger for the country he had been living in. “Then you plan on making Paris your home?”</p><p>Wilson stood from his seat. “What is it with you and home?”</p><p>“Well, for one thing, it’s something any <em>normal</em> person would want. For another thing, you…” He paused.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Just forget it.”</p><p>“Fine.” Wilson let out a long-suffering sigh and exited through the doors not sparing a second glance to him.</p><p>Bruce felt a little bad for making him leave. He was just tired of him bossing him around, telling him what he should and shouldn’t do. What did he know about being royalty? But then again, what did Bruce know?</p><p>He was completely out of his element. Bruce had no idea how to act royal at all. Maybe he should have listened to Wilson. He seemed to be fairly knowledgeable in this sort of thing. Bruce would have to get better at listening to him instead of instantly brushing off his suggestions. If he wanted to meet with the princes and princess, he needed to be able to pass as a royal long enough to have an audience with them, and if they dismissed him right away, he could say it was just an honest mistake. There are plenty of men with black hair and blue eyes walking around. What are the odds that out of all these people Bruce is the one who is actually the missing tsar? It was still strange to think about. Wilson seemed utterly convinced that he was, so… Maybe he could start to believe it too.</p><p>Bruce perked up when he heard a voice call out from down the hall. “Have your tickets and papers ready for inspection.”</p><p>Out of nowhere, Wilson burst back into the room looking rather harried.</p><p>Bruce jumped up from his seat on the bench at his unexpected entrance. “What? What is it?”</p><p>“We need to move.” Wilson stalked quickly over to where they had stored their luggage, grabbing it down and peering through the windows in the door.</p><p>“What do you mean move?” Bruce crossed his arms over his chest.</p><p>Wilson let his head fall forward to smack against the door. He then whipped around, shoved Bruce’s bag at him, grabbed his arm and pulled him through the now open doorway. He moved them along the hall glancing over his shoulder every few steps. Bruce wasn’t sure what exactly was going on and he <em>really </em>would like to know. They made it all the way to the baggage car before Wilson finally seemed to relax a little.</p><p>“Are you going to tell me what’s going on <em>now</em>?” Bruce snapped.</p><p>“I, uh…” He began. “I did not want to force Your Grace to have to mingle with such, uh, commoners.” The smile he gave Bruce was tight.</p><p>Bruce raised an eyebrow in response to the obvious lie when suddenly the train lurched to one side sending them both toppling to the ground. Wilson had somehow ended up on top of Bruce. He sputtered for a moment and began shoving against the chest above him. “Get off me.”</p><p>Wilson got his feet under himself once more and pulled Bruce back up with him. He was looking around trying to figure out what had happened to cause the train to act in such a way. Then there were suddenly people dressed in black clothing with hoods and scarves obscuring their identities surrounding them. Bruce let out a startled yelp as Wilson shoved him behind himself. Bruce had no idea what was going on. Who were these people? Why were they here? What were they after?</p><p>“Stay out of the way.” Wilson whispered, then in a blur of motion he was attacking the nearest cloaked figure. His strikes were fluid and devastating. He sent them flying from the force of his blows. It was like watching a dance. A very violent dance. There were too many for him to fight alone, though. A couple of these people were sneaking around heading straight for Bruce. His eyes widened. This was not good. He needed to think of something and think of it fast. Deciding on his course of action, Bruce made a mad dash for the doors at the back of the baggage car and yanked them open letting in a rush of freezing cold air.</p><p>“What the hell are you doing?!” Wilson shouted.</p><p>“Saving our skin!” He yelled back, stepping down onto the connector between the two cars. He could see some of their attackers making their way towards him again. “Wilson!” They only had one chance. Suddenly, he was there in the doorway shoving back anyone who came near. Bruce had made up his mind. “On three! One…Two…Three!” He leapt forward, aiming for the nearest snowbank.</p><p>He pushed himself into a sitting position, letting out a surprised laugh.</p><p>“Are you completely mad?!” A voice said from beside him. Bruce turned to face his disgruntled companion.</p><p>“I didn’t see you coming up with any ideas.” Bruce shot back, his burst of happiness knowing he had gotten them out alive evaporated as quickly as it had come. “If you hadn’t noticed we’re both alive with all our limbs intact!”  </p><p>If anything, Wilson looked even more angry. “I was handling it!”</p><p>“Handling it? That’s what you call <em>handling</em> it?” He shot back.</p><p>Wilson stormed over to him, using his bulk to try and intimidate Bruce. “Yes, that is what I call handling it. I could have taken care of them, we would have found somewhere else on the train to hide, and we wouldn’t be stuck in the middle of nowhere in the middle of <em>winter</em>!”</p><p>“I know what I saw.” Bruce asserted, “They wouldn’t have stopped looking for us. I’m surprised they didn’t jump after us.” He stood to face the larger man. “I know this is less than ideal, but we will make it work. You moved us to the baggage car for a reason. And I’m assuming it has something to do with our “<em>papers.</em>”” Wilson looked down, guiltily. Well, that confirmed that theory. “The train is just one way to get somewhere, there will be others. Come on, we should get moving.” Bruce cocked his head in the direction of the train tracks and began walking towards them, knowing Wilson would follow.</p><p>They made their way along the tracks, hoping to reach a town before nightfall. They desperately needed to resupply. Bruce felt only a little guilty that they had to abandon their luggage to escape the… assassins, was the only word Bruce could think of to describe them. But better to be without their things than be dead.</p><p>“I’m sorry I yelled at you. You didn’t deserve it.” Wilson’s voice broke the silence that they had been travelling in. His tone was soft, almost tentative. “I saw you jump and I…” He stopped, sucking in a breath. “It was actually kind of smart. I’m sure they hadn’t been anticipating that.” He gave a quick laugh, smiling down at Bruce.</p><p>“Oh, um, thanks.” Bruce mumbled. He gave a small smile back in return, feeling a little bit of heat rise in his cheeks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Paris, 1927</strong>
</p><p>It was just after midnight on January 1st, marking the end of the year 1926. Damian sat in the lounge in his family’s home, watching the distant fireworks signaling the start of the new year. He could still hear the muffled sounds of the party happening in the other part of the house. He heaved a melancholy sigh.</p><p>He had just overheard Timothy ask Jason if it was true that he had given Richard an ultimatum for finding their father. Jason had said yes. Even worse was him going on to say that Dick had accepted. Their father now had until this coming September to return to them. Damian had had no idea that there was now a time limit on the search. Father could be anywhere; he could need their help and they were just going to give up?</p><p>It was infuriating. He wants his father. He doesn’t want to have to rely on pictures and stories from his siblings and Alfred to know him. He wants him to be <em>here</em>. And if they stop looking then Damian will never get the chance to meet the man. Damian knew that this hurt his brothers and sister, that knowing him had made the pain worse. But that doesn’t mean they should stop looking!</p><p>There was a muffled sound from behind him. Turning he saw his elder sister peeking around the door. She tilted her head to the side in a question. Damian gave her a small nod in response. Cassandra glided across the floor, not making a sound, and sat down beside him. “You heard them?”</p><p>“Tt. Of course, I heard them. They weren’t even trying to hide it.” He said icily. “I don’t understand why Richard would agree to this. Are they so eager to just give up?” He couldn’t meet her eyes; he knew what he would see there.</p><p>“Not giving up.” She started softly, “They’re…worried about Dick.”</p><p>Damian scoffed, “Why are they worried about Richard? Father is the one who they should be worrying about.”</p><p>“Not that simple. Looking for Papa is hard. Dick sees many people saying they are Papa. None him. Makes Dick’s heart hurt.” She explained, placing a hand on his knee. “They think looking is killing Dick. They don’t want him to die.”</p><p>Damian startled a little at her words. It was killing Richard? How? Why? Last time he saw their eldest brother he appeared to be in perfect health.</p><p>Cassandra gave him a soft, knowing smile. “It’s killing him inside. The pain from never finding Papa’s too much. He’s making himself too tired. His body might give up on him, unless he stops.”</p><p>He was still confused, but some of what she was saying made sense. His other brothers were worried about Richard looking with no end and just dying from exhaustion. And maybe a broken heart; if that was what Cassandra’s implying. Maybe he should keep a closer eye on his siblings, too, make sure they aren’t making decisions that could result in harm coming to them. He knows Richard takes all of their problems onto his own shoulders. Maybe it was time the rest of them took some of that burden from him. He turned his gaze back to his sister. “I understand.”</p><p>“Understand what?” Damian startled at the sound of the new voice. Cassandra did not. It was Jason. How he could move so quietly for as large as he is, was still a mystery that baffles Damian.</p><p>“None of your business.” Her turned his nose up at his elder brother. He was still mad at him for keeping the year search a secret from him.</p><p>Jason quirked an eyebrow. “Really? This wouldn’t have anything to do with the conversation you listened in on?” Of course, he knows. Because why wouldn’t he?</p><p>“You and Timothy made a plan concerning <em>our </em>family without consulting me.” He stood from the couch; fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Did you ask Cassandra what she thought, or did you even think of us when coming up with your grand plan?” He was angry. So angry. He deserved to have a say in issues that concerned all of them. Just because he is the youngest does not mean they could ignore him, especially when it comes to matters as important as this. His older siblings thought he couldn’t handle certain things because of his age, but he is not stupid. He knows when they hide things from him. It hurts knowing that they don’t trust him, don’t trust his maturity. Damian is fully capable of making difficult decisions with the rest of the family.</p><p>“Tim wasn’t involved in the plan. He figured it out by himself and he decided to confront me about it. It was my choice and my choice alone to talk to Dick about stopping the search.” Jason slowly approached Damian, kneeling to be on a more even level. Damian bristled a little at the action. “I didn’t want to make any of you upset. And I know you’re thinking that we’re just giving up.” He paused, “I want to find him too, believe me I do. But I also have to think about the rest of the family that is <em>already</em> here.” Jason placed a hand on one of Damian’s shoulders. “I can’t keep letting Dick get his hopes up every time Stephanie brings someone new. We’ve been waiting for him for ten years, Dami. There’s only so much disappointment we can all take.” There was the faintest hint of tears in Jason’s eyes.</p><p>Damian didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He had never considered how much it would hurt to meet with a man you thought was your long, lost father only for it to be a fraud, a charlatan.</p><p>“There is still hope. Still time.” Cassandra was standing beside them both, then pulled them into her arms, holding them tightly to her. “We’ll be alright. Our family’s strong.”</p><p>Damian couldn’t doubt his sister. She was the glue that had helped to hold them together in some of the worst times of their lives. Damian finally let himself feel the pain and heartbreak he had been pushing away since he heard Jason and Tim’s conversation. His cries were muffled in Cassandra’s shoulder. He felt Jason’s strong arms warp around them both, helping to block out the rest of the world.</p><p>“It’s going to be alright, little bird.” Jason whispered, pressing his lips lightly atop Damian’s head.</p><p>With the comfort his siblings were providing, Damian really did believe his brother. They would be alright. They have each other, and they always will.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Along the Seine, 1927</strong>
</p><p>Cass was sitting at a small café right next to the Seine River, near the city limits. She loved coming here. It’s a quiet place away from the loudness of the city center and of home. The quiet helped her think. Or to forget about her worries for a while. Her first language was not of words and she still struggled with them sometimes. Her brothers had really helped her grow. She was still a princess, though, and people expected certain things from her because of her title. There have been a lot of days where she doesn’t want to deal with any of it. Sometimes it is too hard to be a princess. That is why she is sitting in this café by herself with the first rays of dawn warming her skin.</p><p>“You’re tea, Mademoiselle.” She gave the server a small, kind smile in thanks. Alfred made better tea, of course, but she liked this one too. She enjoyed her time here. The peace gave her time to just be.</p><p>It was the middle of June now. The days were warm and bright, but her family was sad. They only had a few more months left in their search. She knows none of her siblings are taking it well, no matter how hard they pretend otherwise. She always knows. She can read them like Jay can read his books. They can’t hide from her eyes.</p><p>Cass looked back out over the rippling waves of the Seine, letting the motion calm her mind. Maybe she should go swimming later today. She could invite Steph to go with her. She’s sure her friend would enjoy going swimming with her. Steph might be able to help her make sense of some of her thoughts, too.</p><p>She felt…sad and afraid, but also content. Their life was good here in Paris. She was content with how they have been living, but she also knows that there has been a hole in all their lives for many years. She can see it in Alfred’s careful, protective presence, his wizened stare always watching for threats. She can see it in the slump of Dick’s shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. She can see it in Jay’s clenched teeth, his eyes turned east every morning. She can see it in Tim’s single-minded focus, his almost constant state of tiredness. She can see it in Dami’s stubbornness and his need to be the perfect prince. She sees it all.</p><p>And in her… She sees knowing brown eyes. Always watching, always seeing. Seeing things she isn’t sure she always wants to see. The heartbreak, the anger, the resignation.</p><p>There was one day she had been wandering the halls late at night when she heard Tim’s voice. She hadn’t stayed long enough to know if he was talking with another person. She didn’t want to hear what the other person might say to such a statement.</p><p>He had said, “I wish there were a body. Then at least we would have some closure.”</p><p>She is still struggling to come to grips with her little brother’s words. It had hurt in a way she hadn’t thought she could hurt. A body. Would it be easier knowing he was dead and gone? Was not knowing more painful? She didn’t know the answers.</p><p>Her tea was getting cold. The sun was now much higher in the sky. How long had she been lost in her own head?</p><p>She would have to head back home soon. Make sure her brothers didn’t seriously injury each other. Her silly boys. <em>Hers.</em> And she is theirs. She wants them to be happy. They’ve had moments of happiness, but there are reminders of Papa during them too. She’s seen her brothers laughing and joking and turning to see Papa’s reactions like they did when they were younger. Their smiles drop ever so slightly, and their eyes become a little more dull when they realize he isn’t there to share that moment with them.</p><p>It was strange how a single person being gone could change people. She wonders what life would have been like if their Papa was with them the whole time. They wouldn’t be this sad, she thinks. There wouldn’t be a missing piece of their puzzle.</p><p>“Can I get you anything else?” The voice pulled her from her wayward thoughts.</p><p>“No. Thank you.” She replied.</p><p>“Very good, Mademoiselle.” He gave her a quick bow of the head and made his way over to a couple on the other side of the café.</p><p>She looked at them for a moment. She could see their love for one another. Her gentle smiles and reddening cheeks. Him and his soft, gentle touches and his head bent close to hers. They were happy. It made her happy to see that there is still life and love, even when her world seems to be crashing around her. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday they could be happy like this again too. That would be nice.</p><p>She turned her face away from the couple and lifted it to face the sun. She closed her eyes. Her heartbeat slowing to match that of the waves of the river.</p><p>She opens her eyes once more, gazing down at her empty teacup. Did the leaves have something to tell her? For a moment, she wished she could read them. Only for a moment. Cass doesn’t really want to know her future. She’d much rather take life as it comes; living each day the best she can.</p><p>Cass gave the café another quick glance before she pulled some money from her bag. Home was calling.</p><p>“Fancy meeting you here.” A new voice said from behind her. Cass whipped around, smiling, to face her best friend. “I hope you don’t mind company.” Steph seated herself in the chair across from Cass.</p><p>“I don’t mind.” Cass said back. She raised her hand to get the attention of the server. He bustled over, awaiting her order. “More tea, please.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>North Sea, 1927</strong>
</p><p>They were nearly there. France was only a few more hours away. He still couldn’t believe it. He would be meeting his children. What if they hated him for leaving them for so long? Everything Slade had told him about his little ones had only made his love for them grow. He <em>desperately</em> wants to meet them.</p><p>There was still that thought in the back of his mind that said he really wasn’t this man, the tsar, their father. But Slade was helping him learn more about who he used to be. It somehow felt familiar, strangely enough.</p><p>“We’ll be docking in France tomorrow morning.” Slade said, coming to stand next to him.</p><p>“Good. I’m ready to be off this boat.” Bruce chuckled.</p><p>“You and me both.” Slade gave him a small smile.</p><p>Bruce really liked it when Slade smiled. When they were real smiles his eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Bruce isn’t exactly sure how or when it happened, but Slade had become such an important person in his life. The months they had been travelling together had been hard, but they had also grown closer. Slade had stopped snapping at him as much, and Bruce realized he also had less biting remarks for his companion. Their banter felt almost like, dare he say it, flirting.</p><p>He looked over to the horizon, watching the sun sink lower and lower. “Do you think they’ll want me?” He whispered on the wind.</p><p>Slade turned to face him more fully, “What do you mean?”</p><p>“My children. Do you think they’ll want me back? Or do you think they’ll hate me for leaving them?” He hoped Slade wouldn’t destroy his heart with news that they would dismiss him outright.</p><p>“They won’t hate you. From what I’ve heard they’ve been looking for you the whole time you’ve been missing.”</p><p>Bruce’s eyes widened at hearing this. “They’ve been looking for me?” They had searched for him? They still wanted him in their lives? That was the best news he has heard in his entire life; next to finding out he had children in the first place.</p><p>“They have. I’m sure there have been some impersonators over the years, but I’m sure you’ll be able to convince them.” Slade placed his hand over Bruce’s on the railing, giving it a light squeeze. “All you have to do is remember everything I taught you.”</p><p>Bruce laughed. “I’ll be sure to remember what my great uncle Sergei was best known for.”</p><p>Slade shook his head in amusement, smile still there. “You’ll be fine. They’ll know who you are when they see you.” Slade pulled him away from the railing to the middle of the deck. “There’s another important thing I should teach you.”</p><p>Bruce followed, curious. “And what would that be?”</p><p>“Dancing.”</p><p>“Dancing?”</p><p>“It is an important skill for any royal to know.” Slade gave him a bow then put his free hand on Bruce’s waist. “I’ll lead first and once you feel comfortable, it’ll be your turn.”</p><p>Bruce nodded in acknowledgment, quickly getting swept away by Slade beginning the dance. He moved how he fought; effortless. His movements were precise but also languid at the same time. Slade was also humming a tune as he spun them around.</p><p>They were very close to one another now. Bruce could see the dimming sunlight sparkling in his eyes. “I’m feeling a little dizzy.”</p><p>“Kind of light-headed?” Slade inquired.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Bruce couldn’t take his eyes off him. “Me too.” He said softly. “Probably from spinning. Maybe we should stop.”</p><p>“We have stopped.” Bruce replied just as softly, not willing to break this moment between them.</p><p>“Bruce, I…” Slade was much closer now.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Suddenly, Slade pulled back. “You’re doing fine.” Then he turned and headed to go below deck.</p><p>Bruce stood there, confused. Was he just imagining what was happening between them? Bruce sure as hell wasn’t blind. He could see the way Slade looked at him. Has been looking at him for months now. Why was he scared of this? Was it just because they’ve been in such close quarters together for so long? He sure hoped it wasn’t that.</p><p>With a sigh and a parting look towards the setting sun he also made his way down below to his quarters.</p><p>He gently closed the door behind him, feeling his anxieties creeping back up on him. He hadn’t realized his dance with Slade had quieted his mind that much. Slade’s rejection of him added another layer to his already battered psyche. Maybe it is for the best that they don’t get closer. If Bruce is the tsar then he’ll have many new responsibilities, especially those concerning his family. <em>They</em> are his priority. And if Slade knows that he could not be a part of his life than Bruce just has to accept that.</p><p>Bruce then noticed that there was a cup of steaming tea on the bedside table. That was odd. Maybe Slade had made it?</p><p>He sat on the edge of the bed, lifted the cup, and sniffed it. It smelled quite good, actually. A blend he’s not familiar with. He took a tentative sip. It tasted almost as good as it smelled. He normally didn’t like tea, but this one was different. Before he knew it, he had drunk the whole thing. He blinked, slowly, lethargically. He must be more tired than he realized. Must have been the dancing. Best to sleep now that way he is well rested for tomorrow’s travel and then meeting with the royal family. What a crazy thought. He was going to meet them very soon. His potential family. He was nervous, but also excited and full of so much happiness at the knowledge that he had five beautiful children waiting for him in Paris.</p><p>He kicked off his boots and got under the covers. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. He drifted.</p><p>The next thing he knew he was in a field. The grass was soft under his bare feet and the sun was gently beaming down on him. The smell of the sea filled his nose. He breathed it in deeply. It was such a beautiful summer day. Bruce didn’t think he had ever experienced something quite like this.</p><p>“Papa!” Voices shouted from behind him. He spun around to face a group of young children and an older man.</p><p>“Papa, come play with us!” The tallest boy called out. How could he refuse? He smiled as he walked over to meet them. Their grins grew wider the closer he got. This is when he noticed that they were all in swimming clothes.</p><p>“Come on.” A new voice stated. This boy had freckles across the bridge of his nose. He began dragging Bruce towards the hill ahead of them.</p><p>“Are you going to jump with us, Papa?” Another black-haired boy stood to his other side; their hands were clasped together. Bruce wasn’t sure what he meant by jumping with them, but he nodded anyways. He wanted to make these children happy.</p><p>“So fun.” The little girl said as she skipped up the hill.</p><p>“A wonderful day for a swim, wouldn’t you agree, sire?” The older man asked, mirth in his shining eyes. He held a small child in his arms. Bruce’s eyes locked unto the baby’s piercing green ones watching as the child giggled happily at being noticed by Bruce.</p><p>They had reached the top of the hill. He peered down at the gentle waves of the water down below. So, this is what the child meant when he said jump. They were going to jump into the sea to go swimming.</p><p>“Let’s go!” The oldest boy beckoned them all closer. “Watch this!” He jumped and did a few flips in the air before he dived gracefully into the water.</p><p>“Show-off.” The boy with freckles said under his breath. He leapt off the edge, but instead of a dive he tucked his knees into his chest as he made his descent.</p><p>“Guess it’s our turn.” The other little boy released his grip on Bruce’s hand and went over to stand on the edge with his sister. They jumped together, hands clasped together.</p><p>“I believe it is our turn, Master Damian.” The older gentlemen smiled down at the little one in his arms then stepped off the edge of the cliff.</p><p>The only one who hadn’t jumped was Bruce himself. He wanted to go to them, but some part of him was telling him he shouldn’t.</p><p>“Jump, Papa!” A chorus of voices shouted from the waters down below. He smiled down at his children; for that was who they were.</p><p>“It is quite lovely down here, sire. Won’t you join us?” The elderly man queried. </p><p>“Yes.” Bruce said, but it was little more than a whisper. He wanted to join them, more than anything. He took a step preparing to take the plunge into the serene waters below. He stopped. Something was wrong.</p><p>“Come to us!” He looked back down, and instead of finding his family all he saw were monsters reaching for him. One of them made their way up to Bruce, grabbing him. “You are mine!” It seethed, wicked grin showing rows of grotesque teeth.</p><p>“No! No, please!” He screamed, trying to pull himself away from this monster. But its hold was too strong. He thrashed in its grasp hoping it would give him an opening to get away.</p><p>“Bruce!” He heard a voice calling for him, faintly. They sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place them. He had to get away, he had to get back to the boat, back to his mission, back to Slade.</p><p>“Please.” He pleaded, tears trailing hotly down his face.</p><p>“You can’t escape me. I will destroy you <em>and</em> everything you love.” The creature holding him spat. He looked into the monster’s eyes. He recognized them. He <em>knew</em> these eyes! He knew who they belonged to. They did belong to a monster, but they had first belonged to a man. </p><p>“Wake up!” He could hear this other voice more clearly now. It told him to wake up, so this most be a nightmare. He just needed to wake up!</p><p>He blinked open his eyes and felt rain pelting him. He could still smell the sea. He was clutched tightly to someone else. “Are you with me?” The voice asked. He buried his face in the person’s shoulder, letting out a broken sob. “Shh, it’s okay. I got you.” The man began running his fingers through Bruce’s hair.</p><p>“Slade?” Bruce could barely get the word out past the lump in his throat.</p><p>“I’m here.” Bruce held onto him even tighter. He hadn’t felt this safe in a long time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>English Channel, 1927</strong>
</p><p>How could he be so stupid? He had been so close to just kissing Bruce. Dancing was the worst idea he could have come up with. Once he handed Bruce over to the royal family and they give him his reward, he’s planning on getting as far away from Paris and Russia as he can possibly get. He only has a few more days until then. Why did he have to go and get attached? Could he really just leave?</p><p>Slade sat down on his bed, sighing heavily. He couldn’t get Bruce’s face out of his head. He could picture his eyes so clearly. There are some of the bluest he’s ever seen, almost as blue as the real tsar’s had been.</p><p>He remembers rescuing the royal family;<em> he</em> had gotten them out. He fended the intruders off as best as he could…But there were so many. They had beat him bloody. He still remembers the strength of their hits, their demands for him to give them the location of the royal family, their ceaseless anger. They said such hateful things; about the tsar, about most of his children not even being really his, about how the tsar was using these children for some sick fantasy. He had killed six people over that particular comment. What did biology even matter when there was someone caring for and loving their children? Slade knew the tsar loved his family.</p><p>It was also true what he told Bruce. He looked so much like the missing royal, but Slade was also a realist. The man had not been seen for ten years, his family has been actively looking for him, and he hasn’t already gone to them? Unlikely. The man was most likely dead at this point. The likelihood that his Bruce is truly the tsar is very slim. He had convinced Bruce enough to give it a try. He can’t tell him it’s not true <em>now</em>. It would break his heart.</p><p>He should go check on him though. Make sure he is alright. Slade crept across the hall; feet silent. His training comes in handy now and again. He opened the door as quietly as he could. Peering in, he instantly knew that Bruce was not in there, but he had been. The blankets were thrown to one side, however, his boots were still at the foot of his bed. That’s when he saw the cup on the bedside table. He picked it up, giving a tentative sniff. He recognized the scent. The League had used this exact concoction on him before. It rendered the person unconscious and then caused vivid hallucinations.</p><p>This was not good. Who knows what Bruce was seeing at this moment. But where could he be?</p><p>Slade burst from the room and raced up the stairs towards the upper deck. Rain was falling in thick sheets. He could barely see three feet in front of him. The boat was lurching as the storm raged on. He finally saw what appeared to be a person standing up on the railings not too far from where he was now.</p><p>“Bruce!” He called out. He got no answer.</p><p>He made his way over to the figure hoping that it wasn’t who he thought it was. But he would recognize the back of him anywhere.</p><p>“Bruce!” He shouted once more. He must really be in the depths of his hallucination. Bruce really can’t hear him. “Bruce! Please, I need you to wake up! It’s not real!” Slade was right behind Bruce now. He reached slowly up and pulled Bruce tightly into his arms. Bruce let out a small cry thrashing in his arms, trying to escape his hold. Slade held on even tighter, shushing Bruce. He needed to wake him up before he really hurt himself.</p><p>“No! No, please!” Bruce’s sharp cry cut through the downpour of the rain. “Please…”</p><p>“Bruce, I need you to <em>wake up</em>!” Slade begged. Bruce gasped in a breath, eyes fluttering open.</p><p>“Are you with me?” He asked. Bruce buried his face into Slade’s shoulder and let out a broken sob. “Shh, it’s okay. I got you.” Slade soothed, running his fingers through Bruce’s wet locks.</p><p>“Slade?” He almost missed the word from how quiet it was.</p><p>“I’m here.” He felt Bruce’s grip on him tightening. He needed to get them back down below deck to dry them off. He made his way carefully to the still open door, Bruce held securely in his arms.</p><p>He crept silently down the stairs to his own cabin. He placed Bruce gently on his feet and closed the door behind him. He walked around Bruce grabbing a towel on his way. He began drying him off, peeling back wet layers as he went. He didn’t stop to admire all the bare skin that was being revealed to him; his job was to take care of Bruce. Once he had sufficiently dried the man off, he got him into some of his own clothes before drying and changing himself.</p><p>He went back over to Bruce, who hadn’t moved from where Slade had left him. Slade sighed.</p><p>“Come on.” He whispered. He grabbed Bruce’s hand and started pulling him towards the bed. He laid down first then pulled Bruce down, so his head was resting on Slade’s chest. He rubbed his fingers up and down Bruce’s back hoping to calm him down with his presence and touch.</p><p>“Slade?” Bruce finally said after a long moment of just their breaths and Bruce’s occasional sob filling the room.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“They were there.” Bruce swallowed, seeing things not actually in the room. “My family. We were going swimming.” He sounded so sad. “I wanted to jump with them, but I couldn’t. Something stopped me.” Slade hummed in acknowledgment. “Then everything changed. They all became monsters.” Bruce stopped to take in a few deep breaths.</p><p>“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Slade reassured.</p><p>He could see Bruce steeling himself. “I want to…I need to.” He picked up Slade’s hand and held it in his own, interlocking their fingers. “There was the biggest one. He grabbed me. He told me he would destroy me and everything I love.” He took a moment. “The worst part…I recognized him.”</p><p>Slade was confused. “Okay…”</p><p>“His eyes. I’ve seen his <em>eyes</em> before.” Bruce squeezed his hand. Probably to reassure himself Slade was still there.</p><p>“Who’s eyes?” Slade asked, quietly.</p><p>“I don’t know. It was really more of a feeling than anything else.” Bruce supplied.</p><p>Slade held him tighter to him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He kept his voice soft, sincere. “I have to tell you something.” He whispered suddenly, once a few moments of silence had passed. Bruce deserved to know. “The tea you drank, I recognized the scent. It’s a particular blend that causes hallucinations.”</p><p>Bruce pushed up from his chest to stare at him. “How would you know that?” His tone was slightly accusing.</p><p>“Because it’s been used on me before.” Bruce’s face softened at these words. “When I was a younger man I was taken in by this group of people. They called themselves the League of Assassins.” Slade paused to gauge Bruce’s reaction.</p><p>“The people on the train? At that town in Poland?” He asked.</p><p>“The League. They trained me, taught me their ways. But at one point I couldn’t take it anymore. I had hurt too many innocent lives. So, I returned to Russia in hopes of beginning a new life.” He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.</p><p>Bruce gently placed one of his hands on Slade’s cheek. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. But I’m also glad you are here with me now.” Slade noticed Bruce’s eyes kept looking down towards his lips. He surged up capturing Bruce’s lips in a soft kiss. When they broke apart, he could see a small smile on Bruce’s face. “Thank you for helping me, Slade. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”</p><p>“You would have figured it out.” Slade smiled back at him. His heart was beating so fast he was sure Bruce could hear it.</p><p>“Whatever you say, Man of His Word.” Bruce laughed. Slade joined in.</p><p>“I have something I want to give you.” Bruce whispered, after their laughter died down.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>Bruce slid the ring from his right hand. “I’ve had this for as long as I can remember. I could never part with it, even during my darkest times.” Bruce admitted.</p><p>“You don’t have to give it to me.” Slade admitted, softly. He couldn’t take something so important to Bruce.</p><p>“I want you to have it. So, you’ll always remember me.” Bruce gave him a gentle smile.</p><p>Slade stared up into Bruce’s enchanting blue eyes. He leaned up and captured his lips in another kiss.</p><p>They pulled back from one another. “I will treasure it always.” Slade vowed, raising Bruce’s hand up so he could kiss his knuckles. Bruce’s smile was breathtaking.</p><p>“I know you will.” Bruce settled his head on Slade’s shoulder. Their hands were still intertwined.</p><p>“Goodnight.” Bruce said through a yawn, snuggling closer.</p><p>“Goodnight, Bruce.” Slade whispered back.</p><p>How was he ever going to be able to let this man go?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Paris, 1927</strong>
</p><p>Tim sat in his room going over his notes. He had been writing out the most likely scenarios for where their father might have ended up; he’s been working on this for many years now. His theories varied from him being stuck in a prison somewhere to losing all his memories to him dying right after they lost sight of him. Tim didn’t like to think about that last one. As the days, months, years had gone by, Tim had started to really believe that he <em>was</em> dead. His Papa would have never given up until he found them. And if he had just lost his memories someone would have recognized him and brought him home. How could such a well-known man just disappear without a trace?</p><p>Tim sighed heavily. A sharp knock on his closed door pulled him from his notes.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>The door opened to a crack then the face of his youngest brother peered around the frame. “Timothy. Why aren’t you dressed yet? We’re leaving very soon.” Damian had begun talking as proper as he could trying to emulate what he thought a proper prince would sound like. Their older siblings hadn’t stopped him.</p><p>“I’ll be down in a moment.” He said back, placing his notebook on his bedside table. He stood slowly making his way to his wardrobe, pulling out a suit.</p><p>“If you don’t hurry, we will leave you behind.” His brother said mockingly, a mischievous grin on his face.</p><p>“You’re spending too much time with Jason.” Tim teased back.</p><p>“Tt.” Damian came a little further into his room, crossing his arms over his chest. “I spend as much time with him as the rest of you do.”</p><p>Tim snorted. “I guess you’re right. Now get out so I can get changed.” Tim shooed his little brother.</p><p>“Fine. We are going to be out in public, so try not to embarrass us.” And he was out the door.</p><p>“Brat.” Tim and Damian had never really gotten along, but he still loved him. Didn’t mean he had to like the little hellion.</p><p>Once he was properly dressed for their family outing, he made his way down the stairs to meet with the rest of the family.</p><p>“Ah, there you are, Master Tim. We were beginning to think you had gotten lost.” People wondered where they had gotten their sardonic humor from; it was from none other than Alfred Pennyworth.</p><p>“Damian said I couldn’t embarrass the family, so it took a little more time to fix all of this.” He gestured to all of himself, smirking.</p><p>“Now, we go.” Cass urged, beaming with utter joy. Cass loved the ballet, so as a gift they decided to all see it with her.</p><p>“You look beautiful, Cass.” Tim said. His sister always went above and beyond with her outfit whenever they did go to the ballet.</p><p>“Thank you. You look nice too.” Cass gave him a quick peck on the cheek.</p><p>“Tt.” Damian had his arms crossed, like he normally did, as he raised a judgmental eyebrow at them. “You shouldn’t lie, Cassandra.” He said with an exaggerated air. “Let’s go. Richard and Jason are already with the car.” They made their way out of the house piling into the vehicle as Alfred got behind the wheel.</p><p>They made their way slowly to their usual box seats in the theatre. The crowd would stop them occasionally to chat with them. Tim tried to avoid the small talk as much as he could. When they finally made it to their seats, they all let out a collective sigh of relief.</p><p>The dancing was phenomenal. It was riveting. Tim couldn’t take his eyes off the performance. Cass grabbed his hand, holding it lightly in her own. At one point he saw her lean over to Dick and whisper in his ear from the corner of his eye. The only part of what she said he heard was “watching you.” He looked around after hearing that, trying to see if anyone <em>was</em> actually watching them. There were many people glancing their way. A couple men stood out among the rest. One had dark hair, but the other man’s was shockingly white for a someone who looked no more than forty or so years old. Could it be? No, that man had probably been killed in the palace siege. He moved his gaze back to the performance. He would worry about this new development later.</p><p>It was now intermission. They were chatting with one another, talking about the performance so far, how amazing the dancers were, and if Cass would be joining them one day. Stephanie had made her way to them and she leaned down to whisper something to Dick.</p><p>“There is someone who would like an audience with you, sire.”</p><p>A voice came from behind them, they all turned towards the hallway behind their seats. It was the white-haired man!</p><p>“Please inform His Imperial Highness, the tsarevich, that I have found his father, His Imperial Majesty. He’s waiting just outside.” The man bowed.</p><p>Dick barely moved. He glanced briefly at Stephanie. “Tell that impertinent man that I have seen enough Imperial Majesties to last me a lifetime.” His words were sharp, his face was lined with anger.</p><p>“You’d better go.” Stephanie addressed the other man.</p><p>The rest of them were waiting with bated breath to see what would happen next.</p><p>“Please, let me just...” He began.</p><p>“If you’ll excuse us, we wish to spend the remainder of the evening in peace.” Dick spat, not even turning to address the man directly.</p><p>“I’ll see you to the door.” Stephanie urged the other man away from them. “Come, come now. Come to the door.”</p><p>The man brushed past Stephanie and made his way directly to Dick’s seat. He kneeled down next to it. “Your Highness, I intend you no harm. My name is Slade Wilson. I used to work in the palace.”</p><p>“Well, that’s one I haven’t heard.” Dick nearly snarled, standing to his full height. He held himself just like their father used too. The man stood too. He was very tall, taller than Jason even.</p><p>“If you’ll just hear me out…” He seemed almost desperate.</p><p>Dick moved a little closer to him. “I know what you’re after.” Every line in his body screamed anger. Tim hadn’t seen him like this in years. “I’ve seen it before. You train men in the royal ways.”</p><p>“But if Your Highness would just listen…” The man kept pushing. Couldn’t he see they didn’t want to hear it? Hadn’t their family been through enough?</p><p>“Haven’t you been listening?” Dick narrowed his eyes. “Enough. I don’t care how much you have fashioned this man to look like him, sound like him, or act like him. In the end, it’s never him.”</p><p>“This time it <em>is</em> him.” The man pressed.</p><p>Dick pulled back, considering. “Slade Wilson. I’ve heard of you. You’re that con man from St. Petersburg who was holding auditions to find a tsar lookalike.” Tim was shocked. He had no idea that this man was doing that. He really had the audacity to come to them after what he had been doing?</p><p>“But we’ve come all the way from Russia…”</p><p>“And others have come from Timbuktu.” Dick seethed.</p><p>“No. It’s not what you think.” The man took a step towards Dick.</p><p>“How much pain will you inflict on my family for money?” Dick’s eyes held nothing but fury. He turned to address the security officers who had just arrived. “Remove him at once.”</p><p>The man wriggled his way out of the officers’ grasp. “But he is the tsar. I’m telling you. If you’ll only speak to him, you’ll see.” The officers got a good grip on the man pulling him away from their family and throwing him out the door, slamming it shut behind him.</p><p>They were all silent. Tim was still trying to absorb all that had happened in the last few moments. Cass stood up and crossed over to their eldest brother. She wrapped her arms around him from behind. Damian joined their sister in embracing Dick. Jason and Tim got up to hug him as well.</p><p>“I’m sorry you all had to see that.” Dick remarked sadly.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Dickie. He deserved it.” Jason reassured.</p><p>“Let’s watch the rest of the show. It will make us all feel better and take our minds off of that whole…thing.” Tim gave his family a wry grin.</p><p>“Will do.” Dick agreed, a small smile gracing his worn features.</p><p>They all settled back into their seats as the lights in the theatre dimmed and the curtains began to rise. They watched the rest of the show in relative peace. Tim’s mind was still racing with thoughts of that strange man. The white hair, those eyes… He could have sworn he’d seen him somewhere before. Tim would have to do some more digging when their night at the ballet ends. Hopefully he’ll be able to find some answers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Paris, 1927</strong>
</p><p>He was in Paris. He had made it! It was still so hard to believe. He would finally find out why he had always had this need to come here. He’s hoping it’s his children, and that he’ll be meeting them very soon. He’s also trying to distract himself from thoughts of one Slade Wilson. They had kissed. More than once, even. He had wanted to, and Slade had made the first move…But they hadn’t talked about it afterwards. Slade seemed to be keeping his distance.</p><p>“Here we are.” Slade supplied eagerly.</p><p>“And where is here exactly?” Bruce asked, amused.</p><p>“To meet with the tsarevich’s personal advisor.” Slade smirked at him, with some of the person Bruce had first met creeping back in.</p><p>“Why are we meeting with them?” Bruce’s brows furrowed in confusion.</p><p>“We are meeting with them because if anyone wants to meet with the royal family, they have to go through her <em>first</em>.” Slade answered readily.</p><p>Bruce looked at the house they stood in front of. He wouldn’t be meeting his children yet. He didn’t expect to feel so disappointed at this notion. But he would do this, for them.</p><p>Slade knocked on the door crisply and a serving boy answered. He escorted them to one of the most beautiful rooms Bruce had ever seen. Sitting on one of the couches was a young woman with a mass of golden curls atop her head. She looked up at their arrival.</p><p>“Well, this is unexpected.” She said, setting aside her papers and striding over to them. Both Bruce and Slade kissed her hand when she offered it to them. She raised one of her eyebrows in a question.</p><p>Slade cleared his throat and placed one of his large hands on Bruce’s back. “May I present His Imperial Majesty.”</p><p>The young woman nodded her understanding. “He certainly does look like the tsar, but so did many of the others.” Bruce had known that other people had been claiming to be the missing royal, but it was still disheartening to hear it again. It must be painful for his children to meet with so many people who are not their father. It physically pains him to think about. They must have asked this young lady if she would vet these men before they can meet directly with the royal family.</p><p>The woman ushered them into the room and indicated them to make themselves comfortable, while telling the serving boy to bring them some tea. She sat down on the couch opposite from where Bruce was now sitting. Slade stood behind him near the window. His heart ached a little at the distance between them. He turned his attention back to their host.</p><p>“I have some questions. Please, answer honestly.” She began. “Where were you born?”</p><p>“At the Peterhoff Palace.” Bruce answered readily.</p><p>“Correct. And how does the tsar like his tea?” She was watching him closely.</p><p>“I don’t like tea. Just hot water and lemon.” This he knew for a fact was how he himself preferred it. The questioning continued. There was a slight lull in the conversation.</p><p>“Finally, you may find this an impertinent question, but indulge me. How did you escape the siege on the palace?” Her eyes were earnest. Behind him, he could hear Slade’s huff of frustration. They hadn’t gone over this when they were talking about questions he might have to answer. He had a vague image, though. Bits and pieces of his past had been coming back to him during the months they’d been travelling together.</p><p>He took a moment to consider how to answer the question. “There was a man. A man who worked in the palace. He opened a wall.” Bruce heard Slade suck in a sharp breath. Maybe he had said something that would ruin his chances of seeing his children. Bruce returned his gaze to the woman. “I’m sorry. That’s crazy. Wall’s opening.” He let out humorless chuckle.</p><p>Slade cleared his throat, bringing both of their attentions to him. “So, is he the tsar?”</p><p>“Well, he answered every question…”</p><p>“Did you hear that? You did it!” Slade smile down at him. “When do we go and see the royal family?”</p><p>The young lady looked down at the hands in her lap, considering. “Do you like the Russian Ballet?” She inquired. “I believe they’re performing in Pairs tonight. The royal family loves the Russian Ballet. They never miss it.” Her grin was mischievous.</p><p>Bruce and Slade exited the house moments later after receiving all the instructions they needed for tonight.</p><p>“I’m going to finally meet them!” Bruce exclaimed, smiling widely. His was going to meet his children. The people most likely to fill this hole in his heart.</p><p>“Yes, you are.” Slade agreed. He had a small smile on his face, but his eyes looked sad. He coughed to clear his throat. “We should go shopping. We need to look our best for the ballet tonight.” Slade led the way out the gate at the front of the house and down the street, in the direction of what Bruce assumed was the city center.</p><p>They spent many hours wandering around the grand city. Bruce was amazed at everything he was seeing, hearing, smelling. Slade even bought him a couple small pastries. They were the most delicious things he had ever tasted! They also got outfits for the event that evening. Bruce was still amazed that Stephanie had offered them money to pay for their new suits. She was a very kind soul, and he was glad his children had someone like her with them.</p><p>It was nearly time.</p><p>Slade led Bruce up the steps to the theatre entrance. “There’s nothing to worry about. They’ll see you and know instantly that <em>you</em> are their father.” He reassured. Bruce gave him a smile and squeezed his hand once. They went inside and headed for the seats Stephanie had arranged for them.</p><p>“There they are.” Slade discreetly motioned to their left. Bruce turned and then he saw them. They were beautiful. There were all five of them. They were much older than they’d been in his dream…nightmare. He couldn’t help his staring. They were all just right there. He noticed a couple of them take notice of it. He had to will himself to look away. He didn’t want to make them uncomfortable before he reintroduced himself. He spent the first half of the show thinking of them and not of the, what he assumed, beautiful performance in front of him. He twisted the program in his lap, but Slade stilled the motion but twining their fingers together. Slade’s reassurance helped to calm him somewhat. Once the curtain dropped, he stood from his seat ready to get on with what they had really come here to do. Slade chuckled at the action.</p><p>They made their way over to the royal box. Bruce could feel himself become quite sweaty. He’s so nervous. What if they hated him? What if they didn’t believe him? What if…? He shook his head trying to clear his doubts away. He would do this. They deserved answers.</p><p>“Relax, you’re going to do great.” Slade squeezed his shoulder. “Deep breath. Everything’s going to be fine.” He turned Bruce to face him. They locked eyes. Bruce could barely pull his gaze away. He took a couple deep breaths and pulled away to straighten his suit jacket. “Wait here for just a moment.” Slade walked over to the door. “I’ll go in and announce you properly.” He was about to go in.</p><p>“Slade…” Bruce got his attention.</p><p>“Yes?” Slade turned from the door slightly.</p><p>“We’ve been through a lot together. And I just wanted to…”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Well…” Bruce began. What was he going to say? “Thank you, I guess.” Thank you was what he was going with, apparently. “Yes, thank you for everything.” Heat was rising in his cheeks. Why couldn’t he say how he really feels?</p><p>“Bruce, I…” Slade seemed as lost for words as he was.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Slade sucked in a breath. “I want to wish you good luck.” He gave Bruce a nod and placed a hand on the handle. “Well, here goes nothing.” He walked through the entrance and let the door swing shut. It didn’t latch, however. Bruce stalked as quietly as he could over to the door to listen to the conversation about to happen.</p><p>He heard Stephanie’s quiet voice, but he couldn’t make out the words.</p><p>“Please, inform His Imperial Highness, the tsarevich, that I have found his father, His Imperial Majesty. He’s waiting just outside.” Slade stated, grandly.</p><p>Bruce could hear another man’s voice responding, “Tell that impertinent man that I have seen enough Imperial Majesties to last me a lifetime.” His tone was harsh, angry. Bruce furrowed his brow.</p><p>“You’d better go.” Stephanie urged.</p><p>“Please, let me just…” He heard Slade plead.</p><p>“If you’ll excuse us,” The other man spat, “We wish to spend the remainder of the evening in peace.”</p><p>“I’ll see you to the door.” That was Stephanie again. This was a bad idea. He should have known his family wouldn’t want to meet him under these circumstances. He should have gone in with Slade. “Come, come now. Come to the door.”</p><p>He heard Slade’s heavy footsteps moving further away from the door. “Your Highness, I intend you no harm. My name is Slade Wilson. I used to work in the palace.” Bruce stifled a gasp. Slade had worked in the palace? Was that how he knew so much? Why didn’t he tell him?</p><p>“Well, that’s one I haven’t heard.” The other voice said angrily.</p><p>“If you’ll just hear me out…” Slade begged.</p><p>“I know what you’re after.” The man’s tone dripped with repressed rage. “I’ve seen it before. You train men in the royal ways.” Bruce’s eyes widened in shock.</p><p>“But if Your Highness would just listen…” Slade tried again.</p><p>“Haven’t you been listening?” The other man hissed. “Enough. I don’t care how much you have fashioned this man to look like him, sound like him, or act like him. In the end, it’s never him.”</p><p>“This time it <em>is</em> him.” Slade urged. Bruce leaned closer to the door, hanging on every word.</p><p>He heard a shuffle of movement. “Slade Wilson.” The man sounded calmer. He seemed to have reigned in some of his immediate anger.  “I’ve heard of you. You’re that con man from St. Petersburg who was holding auditions to find a tsar lookalike.” Bruce froze.</p><p>This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be the truth. If it was that means Slade lied to him. Has been lying to him. The entire time they’ve known each other. He could feel the faint sting of tears in the corner of his eyes. If this was a lie that means <em>he’s</em> not the missing tsar. He’s a nobody with no past, no future, and no family.</p><p>“But we’ve come all the way from Russia…” Slade’s voice was strained.</p><p>“And others have come from Timbuktu.” The other voice seethed.</p><p>“No. It’s not what you think.” Slade just kept pushing. Didn’t he know that it was over? His con was revealed. Bruce turned away from the door right as a couple security officers rushed inside.</p><p>“How much pain will you inflict on my family for money? Remove him at once.” The tsarevich’s tone was emotionless.</p><p>Bruce could hear Slade struggling against the officers. “But he is the tsar. I’m telling you. If you’ll only speak to him, you’ll see.”</p><p>Slade was thrown from the room, where he gracelessly fell at Bruce’s feet. He turned his head to face the now closed door, then whipped it around to stare up at Bruce’s face.</p><p>“It was all a lie, wasn’t it?” Bruce spat. He had never felt so angry, so hurt, so betrayed.</p><p>Slade pulled himself from the ground. “No. No.” He started to reach for Bruce.</p><p>“You used me? I was just a part of your con to get their money?” He pulled away. How <em>dare</em> he.</p><p>“No. No, no, no.” Slade insisted, dropping his hands to his side. “It may havestarted out that way.” Bruce blanched. He spun around moving towards the main staircase. “But everything’s different now, because you really are the tsar. You <em>are</em>!” He said it with such conviction. Bruce couldn’t believe a word out of his mouth.</p><p>“Stop it!” He faced Slade again. “From the very beginning you lied! And I not only believed you, I actually…” He huffed with anger and spun away again.</p><p>“Bruce, please.” Slade grabbed his arm. Bruce pulled against the hold. “When you spoke of the door, of the wall opening, and the man…” Bruce yanked his arm out of Slade’s grasp. “Listen to me! That was…”</p><p>“No!” Bruce shouted. He didn’t want to hear this. He was a fool. A damn fool for ever believing any of this. For letting himself fall for him. “I don’t want to hear about anything I said or remembered. Just leave me alone!” And he stormed off, taking the stairs two at a time. He needed to get as far away as he could from Slade.</p><p>“Bruce, please! You have to know the truth!” He heard Slade calling after him. He didn’t stop, he didn’t look back, he just kept going. He kept going until he made it back to his hotel room. Bruce sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He put his head in his hands and finally allowed himself to cry. How could he be so stupid?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! </p><p>I know things are kind of crazy right now, but I hope all of you are safe and healthy and are able to be with your loved ones. I also hope I can provide a bit of an escape for a little bit too. Thank you to everyone who has been here from the beginning and to anyone who is new! I wish you all the best! Stay safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>A Paris Street, 1927</strong>
</p><p>Alfred stood outside the theatre, waiting for his darling grandchildren to finish their goodbyes so that they may return home. He glanced at his pocket watch again. He would give them five more minutes before he goes to retrieve them. Young Master Damian really must be getting to bed soon. Alfred sighed. They all needed rest after that trying ordeal during the performance’s intermission.</p><p>Alfred looked down at his pocket watch once more, and in his moment of distraction someone grabbed him. Alfred fought against the hold, using techniques he learned during his time as a British soldier. The man grunted but otherwise did not loosen his hold. He dragged Alfred to an alley way next to the theatre. The man finally released him.</p><p>He turned to face his attacker, preparing himself for a hell of a fight. But what he saw was the man who had interrupted their evening out. He glared, feelings of anger and protectiveness rising inside of him.</p><p>“And what do you think you are doing?” Alfred smoothed out his suit jacket.</p><p>“I need your help.” The man looked frazzled.</p><p>“My help?” Alfred was confused. He wanted <em>his</em> help? Was he planning to hurt his charges some more? “I must refuse. You have caused my family quite a lot of pain and I will not let you cause anymore.”</p><p>“Alfred Pennyworth,” The man began, “You were a part of the British Army, but you did not fight during the Great War because you were stationed in St. Petersburg. That is where the former tsar Thomas I found you and asked for your service in protecting his family. You were there when the tsar and tsarina were assassinated. You were the one who helped raise their son.” Alfred could barely believe this. He had only told those closest to him about this part of his life. “Their son, Thomas II, known to his family as Bruce.”</p><p>“How do you know all this?” Alfred asked, feelings of dread filling him.</p><p>“I worked in the palace. I was there the night of the siege.” The man explained. “I was the one who got you and the royal family to safety.”</p><p>He was god smacked. This was the same man? <em>This</em> man had saved his family?</p><p>“How can I believe anything you say?” Alfred accused.</p><p>“Do you recognize this?” The man held up a ring. A ring Alfred knew all too well. He was the one to give it to his boy.</p><p>“Where did you get this?” Alfred examined the ring, but it was the real thing. Bruce never parted with it.</p><p>“I know all of you have been hurt…” He whispers into the silence that had befallen them. “I know I’ve played my part in some of that pain, but he’s here. Just, please, look at him before writing him off.” He was pleading with Alfred through his words but also through his eyes.</p><p>“Very well.” Alfred finally conceded. “Lead the way. But first I must leave a note for my family.”</p><p>The man gave him a curt nod. After writing the note, he left it with one of the doormen, instructing him to give it to the royal family as soon as he saw them. Then he made his way back to where the strange man was waiting. The man led him a few blocks away to a hotel.</p><p>He paused. “He doesn’t want to see me.” His voice sounded defeated. “He’s in room 81.” He gave Alfred a nod then walked off, leaving Alfred alone to face his fate.</p><p>He sighed but made his way into the hotel. It was easy enough to find the room. He knocked lightly against the door.</p><p>“Go away, Slade.” A voice said from the other side. Alfred decided to take a chance and opened the door. It was unlocked.</p><p>The man whipped around at Alfred’s entrance. “I’m sorry,” He said, taken aback. “I thought you were…”</p><p>“I know very well who you thought I was.” Alfred stated plainly, closing the door behind him. He ran his gaze over the man in front of him. He looked so much like his Bruce. “Who exactly are you?”</p><p>“I was hoping you could tell me.” The man admitted, quietly.</p><p>Alfred sighed. “Sir, I’m old and I’m tired of being conned and tricked.” He had seen every single one of those Bruce impersonators that his dear Richard had to meet with. He was tired of men taking advantage of his precious family.</p><p>“I don’t want to trick you.” He said, softly.</p><p>“And I suppose the money doesn’t interest you either?” Alfred questioned, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“I just want to know who I am.” The man began. “Whether or not I belong to a family. <em>Your </em>family.” This stranger was quite convincing. He really did sound sincere.</p><p>“You’re a very good actor. The best yet, in fact. But I’ve had enough.” Alfred turned to leave.</p><p>He had almost made it through the door again when a voice stopped him.</p><p>“Peppermint?” Alfred turned to face him at the question.</p><p>“I use it quite frequently.” Alfred stated. He liked to put some in his hot chocolate, a personal favorite of all the little ones he’s had under his care. They’ve told him it reminds them of home.</p><p>“Yes.” The man seemed lost in thought. He walked over and sat on the bench at the foot of the bed. “Jason spilled a whole glass of peppermint hot chocolate on the carpet in my study. It was soaked. And it forever smelled of peppermint” The man chuckled.</p><p>Alfred just stared. No one else could know that. Jason had been so afraid that they would toss him out because of it. None of the others had looked so much like him, either. His eyes were the same bright blue he’s known since Bruce was just a tiny babe. And the ring Alfred had in his breast pocket, no one else would know of its importance, for it was the ring Alfred had fashioned for him when Bruce came of age. It was made by combining the metal from his parents wedding bands.</p><p> He sat down beside the man and pulled the ring from his pocket and presented it to him.</p><p>“My ring! The one <em>you</em> gave me!” He exclaimed. A beat of silence passed as he considered for a moment. “But how do you have it?” He looked confused.</p><p>“A young man gave it to me. Said I should give you a chance.”</p><p>“So, you believe me?” The man’s eyes were filled with a hopeful longing.</p><p>“I have one more question.” Alfred noticed he had begun holding the man’s hand, the ring pressed between them. “How did you escape the palace siege?”</p><p>The man stared directly into his eyes. “There was a man with snow white hair. He opened the wall. It led to a street near the train station. The man didn’t make it out with us.”</p><p>Alfred could hardly believe it. There was no more room for doubt. This…This was his Bruce. His beautiful, darling, <em>alive</em> boy. Tears welled up in his eyes. He did not resist the urge to pull his long-lost son into his arms. He held on as tightly as he could. He felt Bruce return the embrace, burying his now tear soaked face into Alfred’s shoulder. Alfred began stroking his hair.</p><p>It was still so hard to believe that Bruce was here in his arms for the first time in over ten years. Fate had blessed them with his return. Oh, his beloved grandchildren would be so happy.</p><p>“Oh, my boy. My dear boy.” He placed a soft kiss against the crown of his son’s head.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Home, 1927</strong>
</p><p><em>I apologize for my absence, but I had to run an unexpected errand. I will meet you all back at home shortly. -Alfred Pennyworth </em>was what the note said. Jason was still trying to wrap his mind around why Alfred would leave it. Was it a clue for his true whereabouts? Had he been kidnapped? But if he’d been kidnapped, his kidnapper wouldn’t have let him leave a note, right?</p><p>“Jason.” Dick pulled his attention to him. “He’ll be okay.”</p><p>“Alfred knows how to take care of himself. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Damian assured. But he didn’t seem fully sure himself.</p><p>“If he’s not home soon, we go looking.” Cass asserted.</p><p>“We’ll give him a couple hours.” Dick agreed.</p><p>As if by one mind, they all meandered to the sitting room closest to the front entrance. They stripped off their coats and such, and relaxed into different seats all around the room, no words passing between them.</p><p>Jason sat in an armchair by the window, staring off into the night, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alfred coming up the front path.</p><p>“Did that man look familiar to any of you?” Tim’s voice finally broke their silence.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Dick questioned, some of the anger from earlier coming back into his voice.</p><p>“I mean,” Tim began, “I think I’ve seen him before. I’ve never met another person who looked so much like the man who rescued us.”</p><p>Jason pondered this. Tim was only six when their home was attacked, but the trauma of that night must have imprinted all of it into his memories. And if Jason was being honest with himself, the man did look almost identical to their rescuer.</p><p>“Tim does have a point.” Jason pointed out, before Dick could speak.</p><p>“He and his friend looked at us a lot during the show.” Cass replied.</p><p>“Do you think he was telling the truth? About Father?” Damian asked, his voice subdued.</p><p>“Of course not!” Dick stood from his seat. “He auditioned people, trained them, made them look like him. We can’t trust <em>anything</em> he says.”</p><p>“But what if it’s the truth?” Tim questioned.</p><p>“There are no buts. He was lying, end of story.” Dick’s anger was steadily growing.</p><p>Cass stood from her spot and went to hug Dick. “It is okay to be angry, but you also have to listen.”</p><p>Jason stared at the scene. Tim seemed to have become lost in thought. He was probably considering all the possibilities, including the man being the one that saved them. And that his companion could have been their father. He looked over at Damian next. He was staring intently at his fidgeting fingers. Jason focused his gaze on Cass and Dick next. Dick had his eyes closed and was taking deep calming breaths. Cass was rubbing his back soothingly.</p><p>“We can’t do anything until Alfred gets back, anyways.” Jason said, matter of factly. Maybe Alfred would have answers for them when he came home. Once their family was back together then they could consider their next move.</p><p>A moment later they heard the front door opening.</p><p>“Don’t worry. It’s me.” Alfred called out. “Are you all in the sitting room?”</p><p>“We are!” Dick shouted back.</p><p>Alfred strolled into the room, looking unharmed and with a small smile on his face. He wasn’t alone. He brought with him a black-haired man with light blue eyes, and a dark wash of stubble across the lower part of his face. Dick stood from his seat, pulling his shoulders back to seem bigger than he actually was. He was still no match compared to the other man’s bulk.</p><p>“Alfred?” Dick questioned, not taking his eyes off the stranger. Alfred maneuvered himself to now occupy Dick’s empty seat, sighing in relief as he sat down.</p><p>Jason’s eyes became glued to the stranger. He looked just like their Papa. Down to the small scar in his eyebrow. Could it really be? Alfred wouldn’t have brought him if he wasn’t sure. Jason’s eyes were slowly drawn to the man’s right hand. The ring! His Papa never took off his ring. It looked exactly like their father’s; he even wore it on the same finger.</p><p>The man reached out and gently cupped Dick’s face.</p><p>“Dickie?” The first word the man had spoken since coming into their home. With that one-word Dick broke. Jason had never seen his big brother break down like this. He always tried to be strong for them. Their Papa pulled Dick into his arms, shushing him, while stroking his hair gently.</p><p>Jason looked around at his family. Damian’s mouth was open in shock, he looked like he was barely breathing. Tim’s calculating eyes were staring intently at the scene in front of him, collecting all the details they could. Cass had a wide smile on her face, tears slowly trickling down her cheeks. Alfred had a pleased air about him.</p><p> He had come back. He had finally come back to them like he said he would. Jason had to fight back his own tears. It wasn’t his time to cry yet.</p><p>Dick and Papa finally released each other. Dick wiped away his remaining tears, a small grin gracing his features. Papa was smiling too; his hands resting on Dick’s shoulders.</p><p>“Where were you?” Tim’s voice interrupted the happy moment. Their father slowly turned to face Tim. He walked over and kneeled in front of him.</p><p>“I never wanted to leave you,” His voice was soft. He reached out for Tim’s hands, holding them gently in his own. “That night…I hit my head. I lost my memories. There were bits and pieces that I knew, like my name and that I needed to get to Paris.”</p><p>“Why now?” Tim asked.</p><p>“I was finally able to get out of Russia and travel here. I was trying to save money for a ticket for a long, long time.” He looked sad at having to admit this.</p><p>Tim finally seemed to be satisfied. His tears spilled over and he threw himself into Papa’s arms.</p><p>Jason’s tears fell too. He looked down towards the hands in his lap. He had been dreaming of this moment for so long… But why did it still hurt so much? He looked up again when he saw Papa move. He now held Cass in his arms. Her smile never dropped.</p><p>“Never leave again.” Jason almost missed her whispered words.</p><p>“Never.” Papa agreed, holding her tighter.</p><p>After they had their moment, Papa turned his attention to their youngest. Damian seemed to not know what to do with himself.</p><p>“Damian.” Papa began.</p><p>“Father,” Damian said, standing in front of him. He looked up towards their father’s face. “I expected you to be taller.”</p><p>Papa let out a short laugh, then swung Damian up into his arms. Jason saw the moment that Damian relaxed into his father’s embrace. He could hear Papa mumbling “my baby” to Damian, his face buried in his wispy hair. He gently set Damian back on his feet. Cass swooped in right as he was released, pulling their baby brother into her lap. Damian only let out a mild squawk at the action. He also noticed that Dick had moved to sit in between Tim and Cass, his arms wrapped around both of their shoulders. Jason retuned his gaze to Papa. He had tear tracks on his face, but his eyes were filled with a warmth Jason had almost forgotten about. Papa held out his arms, waiting. Jason didn’t waste another moment. He threw himself at his father, knowing his Papa would catch him.</p><p>“You’re so big now.” Papa remarked under his breath.</p><p>All Jason could do was cry.</p><p>“Shh. It’s okay. I’m here now.” Papa whispered in his ear, slowly starting to rock them.</p><p>Jason could feel all the pain and loss he had been carrying inside him finally released as he was held by their missing piece. Jason sank into the embrace, letting his Papa hold him up. He didn’t have to carry all this weight anymore. Papa had made it back to them; in Paris just like he said he would.</p><p>He felt his family circling them. He felt arms wrapping around them both.</p><p>“It’s good to be home.” Papa’s smile was the best thing Jason had seen in a long time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last chapter! <br/>Some Warnings: mild violence, a bit of blood, and a minor character death (I don't think any of you will be mad about this death tho)<br/>Thanks so much for all you support, I really appreciate it!<br/>Much love!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Versailles, 1927</strong>
</p><p>Bruce stood at the top of one of the many staircases in the palace, adjusting his collar one last time. His children would be waiting for him in the ballroom.</p><p>Bruce made it. He had made it all the way to Paris. And he found out who he really is and found his family too. It’s such a relief to know who he is, to know that he has such a wonderful family who love him as much as he loves them. He’s also been getting more and more of his memories back since being with them. They’ve helped him fill in some of the gaps. They are all such incredible people. Bruce just wishes he hadn’t missed over ten years with them.</p><p>He made his way slowly down the stairs, that’s when he saw him. Slade Wilson.</p><p>“Hello, Slade.” Bruce remarked politely, coming to stand before him.</p><p>“Hello.” Slade returned.</p><p>“Did you collect your reward?” Bruce asked, feeling his anger from the other night still simmering in his chest.</p><p>“My business is complete.” He stated, plainly</p><p>“Sir, you will bow and address the tsar as Your Majesty.” One of the servants explained, stopping by them.</p><p>“No, that’s not necessary.” Bruce didn’t know if he’d ever get used to being addressed like that again.</p><p>“Please…” Slade began, holding up a hand. “Your Majesty, I’m glad you found what you’re looking for.” And he gave Bruce a small bow.</p><p>“Yes, I’m glad you did too.” He didn’t think it would hurt so much to see Slade again.</p><p>“Well, then. Goodbye, Your Majesty.” He gave Bruce another bow.</p><p>“Goodbye.” Bruce whispered, with Slade already at the door.</p><p>Bruce sighed. He just had to purge any thoughts of Slade from his mind. Tonight’s supposed to be a happy occasion. He was being reintroduced to the public as the missing tsar. He’s a king; he can do this. He made his way over to where Alfred was standing.</p><p>“Are you ready, sire?”</p><p>“As I’ll ever be.” He replied, giving his father figure a gentle smile.</p><p>“It is alright to be nervous, my boy. You’ve always dreaded events like these.”</p><p>Bruce laughed at that. It was good to know that he’d never liked parading in front of the wealthy elite, feigning interest in their inconsequential affairs. Bruce peered through a sliver between the curtains blocking him from the rest of the party.</p><p>“He’s not there.” Alfred said, softly.</p><p>“Oh, I know he’s not there.” Bruce mumbled, distracted. Realizing Alfred’s words, he turned to address him. “Who’s not there?”</p><p>“A young man who found a king and brought him home.” Alfred replied.</p><p>“Well, he’s probably spending the reward money as quickly as he can.” Bruce muttered, derisively.</p><p>“Hmm.” Alfred was now looking through the gap in the curtains as well.</p><p>“I have my family. That’s more than enough.”</p><p>Alfred faced him again, adjusting Bruce’s suit. “My dear boy.” He placed a gentle hand against Bruce’s cheek. “He didn’t take the money.”</p><p>Bruce stared at Alfred, shocked. He hadn’t taken the money? But why? Isn’t that why he had done all this? It just didn’t make sense. “He didn’t?”</p><p>“My boy, knowing that you are alive, seeing the man you’ve become, brings me joy I never thought I could feel again.” Alfred placed his hands unto Bruce’s shoulders, squeezing briefly, then he walked through the curtains leaving Bruce alone.</p><p>He just stood there, staring at the people twirling around. Happy and carefree. He was happy. Ecstatic, even. His children were healthy and amazing and beautiful and kind and… He never knew he could feel love this deeply. They are his everything. The lights of his life. And Alfred, steadfast and true, who had raised him after the tragic death of his parents when he was only eight years old. Alfred loved and cherished each of the bundles of joy Bruce had brought home with him, despite all the headaches they caused.</p><p>Bruce had brought home Dick first after that fateful day at the circus where his parents fell. It took months before Dick’s bright smile started to return. Bruce struggled to keep up with his energetic little acrobat. A couple years later he found Jason. Jason had tried to pick his pocket. Jason always challenging Bruce but making him a better father in the process. There was a time when Jason went missing for a year, that is when Tim showed up in his life. He had come right up to him during an event at the palace and told him he could hold his hand because it might make him not so sad. How could he refuse? Tim’s parents were killed shortly after that night, and he had taken Tim in as his own. Cassandra ended up in the palace with no one the wiser. Bruce had just happened to stumble upon her in the kitchen when he went there looking for one of his other children. She could barely speak when she was brought into their lives due to the abuse of her birth father, but she pushed herself to learn. Bruce admired her greatly for her strength. And lastly, Damian. His last baby. The only child who is his by blood. His birth mother was a passionate, fiery woman who he loved dearly. Shortly after Damian’s birth, however, she disappeared along with his mentor; her father, leaving Damian without his mother.</p><p>Bruce pulled himself from his reminiscing and peered through the opening again, steeling himself to face whatever was ahead of him. He could do this. He would do this. He just…wished that he could share this moment with Slade. An unlikely alliance that had brought him back to the most important people in his life. A man who gave him back his identity. They had shared so much together; you couldn’t just erase that. And he hadn’t taken the money. That had to <em>mean </em>something.</p><p>He was just about to follow Alfred when he heard a sound coming from behind him. He turned to face an open door leading out into the expansive gardens around the palace. Bruce wandered over, stepping through the doorway, listening to see if he would hear the sound again.</p><p>“Bruce…” A voice whispered, seeming close yet also far away. His feet took him towards the hedge maze.</p><p>“Bruce…” He heard again, slightly louder this time. He had made his way through the maze and was now standing in a grand courtyard.</p><p>“Bruce…” The voice was even clearer now.</p><p>That’s when he saw him. He stood perfectly still; his eyes locked onto Bruce. “Your Imperial Majesty.” The man purred.</p><p>Bruce took a stunned step back. “Ra’s.” He inhaled sharply. This was the man who had destroyed his life, who had caused him, his family, and his people so much pain and suffering, who had sent people to kill him on his journey back to his family.</p><p>“It’s been such a long time, dear boy.”</p><p>“Why are you here?” Bruce’s body had gone absolutely rigid.</p><p>Ra’s took a few steps closer to where Bruce stood, frozen. “I can’t pay a visit to an old friend?” His smile was cruel, and his eyes burned with a thirst for blood. “And on such a momentous occasion.”</p><p>“Old friend?” Bruce spat, bitterly. “You used me! And Talia!”</p><p>Ra’s was suddenly right there in front of him. “You could have been my heir, but you refused.” Anger shone in his sickly green eyes.</p><p>“You’ve killed millions!” Bruce screamed. “You nearly destroyed my family!”</p><p>“Your family makes you <em>weak</em>.” Ra’s snarled.</p><p>“They don’t make me weak.” Bruce took a single step forward. “They remind me of the good that is in this world. And I will <em>never </em>be your heir.” Bruce bared his teeth.</p><p>“Then I must destroy you.” Ra’s stepped back and flung off his cloak. He pulled a sword from the sheath on his belt. Bruce darted to the side avoiding the first swing of Ra’s sword. He dodged blows left and right, keeping his distance. He needed to find something to defend himself with.</p><p>There! A metal pipe lay near one of the benches. He rushed over and scooped it up. He spun the weapon up to block a downward strike from Ra’s.</p><p>“You’ve become stronger.” Ra’s purred. “Maybe now you’ll put up more of a fight.” He then proceeded to kick Bruce in the stomach. Bruce coughed violently, but took the time to retreat further</p><p>They traded blows; Bruce mostly on the defensive. He was no match for Ra’s skill with the blade. Ra’s held all the advantages. Bruce would just have to outwit him so he could escape and defeat him on his own terms.</p><p>He could not allow this monster to reach his family. He would torture them before finally ending their lives. Bruce will fight till his dying breath to prevent that from happening. And that might come sooner than he thought. Ra’s swing cut him on the thigh as well as another strike to his upper arm. The blood was now trickling steadily from his wounds. The blood from the cut on his arm had reached his hand, making it difficult to maintain the grip on his weapon.</p><p>“You’ve made a valiant attempt, boy, but you are no match for me.” Ra’s grinned viciously, looking like the predator he truly was.</p><p>“But maybe I’m a better match.” A voice said from behind Ra’s. They both turned their gazes to the newcomer. It was Slade! He was here! Bruce could hardly believe his eyes. Slade was only in a white linen shirt and trousers, but with two swords strapped across his back.</p><p>“My, my, my. Now this <em>is</em> a surprise. I almost didn’t believe my men when they told me <em>you</em> were the one thwarting my plans.” Ra’s grin never dropped, he somehow seemed even more amused at this development.</p><p>“They didn’t put up much of a fight.” Slade volleyed back.</p><p>Ra’s laughed, sharp and callous. Then he swung his blade towards his new foe. Slade barely avoided being hit by the attack. He grabbed his twin blades and they began their fight in earnest. Taking advantage of the opportunity Slade had provided him, he ripped up part of his jacket to make into makeshift bandages to staunch the ever-steady blood flow.</p><p>Bruce watched them fight, not sure who would come out on top. They were fairly evenly matched. Bruce followed them as their fight lead them all the way to a large bridge not too far from the courtyard they had begun in. Slade seemed to be losing momentum. Bruce wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He couldn’t allow Ra’s to kill him. He gripped the metal pipe and aimed for Ra’s head. His blow was blocked, and his weapon was flung from his hand. He had to retreat quickly as the predator slowly stalked towards his prey. Bruce could feel the cold, stone railing of the bridge digging into his back.</p><p>“Bruce!” Slade prepared his attack.</p><p>“Not so fast.” Ra’s pointed the tip of his sword directly at Bruce’s throat. “You make any sudden movement and I slit his throat.” Ra’s was smiling now. They all knew Slade wouldn’t risk Bruce’s life. What an idiot. Ra’s would kill him anyways. It was better if Slade stopped Ra’s, so he couldn’t go after his family. If he had to die to save them, he would do it. Gladly.</p><p>Slade lowered his swords.</p><p>“Good.” Ra’s hummed. “How about a nice swim?” He smirked, then he shoved Bruce over the railing towards the river below.</p><p>“No!” He heard Slade scream and Ra’s laugh manically. The sounds of a fight picked up again.</p><p>Bruce stayed hanging onto the edge of the bridge, trying to avoid looking down at the rushing water below him.</p><p>“Papa!” Voices called from above him. He looked up into the faces of his two youngest children. They reached down for him. He grabbed both of their hands as they helped pull him back over the edge.</p><p>Bruce looked around him, noticing his family all here, in danger. Dick had twin metal rod <em>things</em> in his hands. Jason had, what appeared to be, one of Slade’s swords in his grasp. And Cassandra wasn’t holding any weapon at all, but they were all attacking Ra’s as a unit. Bruce couldn’t believe his children were fighting this mad man. He could kill them! He had to figure someway to help them. Bruce’s wandering gaze ended up landing on Slade. He was lying face down, not moving. Bruce sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.</p><p>“To me!” He suddenly heard Ra’s yell. Out of the shadows, black clad figures rushed to fight against his children.</p><p>“Get out of here.” He hissed at Damian and Tim, shoving them towards the direction of the palace.</p><p>“No.” Tim stood his ground. “This is our fight too.” And he grabbed a staff and rushed over to fight one of the many assassins.</p><p>“We’ve trained for this, Father.” Damian explained, before running after his elder brother, pulling daggers from his waistband as he went.</p><p>Trained for this? What did that even mean?</p><p>As he watched his children battle their foes he started remembering. He had helped to train them. He hadn’t wanted what happened to his parents to happen to him or his family. Each of their individual talents were utilized to make them adept at protecting themselves. And it appeared they had continued their training even after he went missing. They were poetry in motion. They were able to flawlessly work with and around each other, their movements fluid and graceful. His children were all engaged with other opponents, meaning no one was going after Ra’s. He looked to all of his children one more time, then raced over to where Slade had dropped his other sword and scooped it up. He then re-engaged Ra’s in their duel.</p><p>“Come back for more? I didn’t think <em>you</em> would let your darling children fight your battles for you.” Ra’s said, mockingly.</p><p>“They are more than capable. And I can’t really stop them.” Bruce grinned. He felt more assured with his family by his side. His movements became more natural; he no longer had to really think about them; he just reacted.</p><p>Their blades continued to clash, Ra’s looking worried. Ra’s shoved him away to create some distance. He pulled from one of his pockets a vial with a bubbling, glowing, green liquid inside. He drank it all. He seemed to appear younger than when their battle started. What <em>was</em> that? How did it do that? Bruce didn’t have any more time to think before Ra’s was upon him once more. Bruce could feel himself losing ground. Ra’s had revitalized himself, but Bruce was becoming tired. He had to go more on the defensive again.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Your Majesty, I shall make your death slow and painful. And I’ll make sure your children watch.” Bruce roared, attacking now with more force, more anger. He wouldn’t let this mad man lay a hand on his children. This monster had already taken Slade from him, he wouldn’t let him near his children. Slade. He had so many things he wanted to tell him. He had wanted to introduce him to his family. Now, he would never get that chance.</p><p>Ra’s used a move Bruce was unfamiliar with and effortlessly disarmed him. He started backing away from him. He didn’t want to die this way.</p><p>“Do svidaniya, Bruce.” Ra’s smiled wickedly, raising his sword, preparing the killing blow.</p><p>A gunshot sounded. Bruce’s eyes widened in shock. He stared as Ra’s wavered before collapsing to the ground. Once he fell, Bruce could see Alfred standing behind him, a pistol in one of his hands.</p><p>“You always knew how to get into trouble, sire.” Alfred teased.</p><p>Bruce let out a short bark of laughter. Only Alfred could be so candor in a time like this. “You know me too well, old friend.” Then he turned his attention to the man at his feet. “Do svidaniya.” He spat.</p><p>Ra’s glared up at him before he seemed to crumble to dust in front of their very eyes. The wind blew the remains of him away, leaving no trace. It felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The threat to his family was now gone. It also appeared that the assassins had fled at the loss of their leader.</p><p>“Papa!” His children called out, all rushing towards him. They swarmed around before they all hugged him tightly. He laughed at their antics, doing his best to embrace all of them back.</p><p>He met Alfred’s eyes, mouthing a quick “thank you” at him. Alfred gave a curt nod in response, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth too.</p><p>“Bruce?” A voice said. His head snapped up, looking right at Slade. He couldn’t believe it. He was alive! Bruce had thought Ra’s had killed him.</p><p>His children released him from their hold, all their eyes turned to consider the man in front of them.</p><p>“You’re the one who saved us from the palace.” Tim stated, plainly.</p><p>Slade gave his second youngest a small grin. “I am.”</p><p>Dick walked up to him, looking so much like a king in this moment. Bruce smiled at that. “I apologize for the way I treated you the other night. I’m just very protective of my family.”</p><p>“I understand. I would be too. I didn’t really believe it myself until your father mentioned the wall opening.” Slade explained. That helped to explain some of Slade’s actions after their meeting with Stephanie.</p><p>“Then thank you. For returning our father to us.” Dick’s grin grew as big as the ones he had when he was much younger. Then he threw his arms around Slade, hugging him. Slade went still, seeming to not know what to do with himself. The rest of his family cracked up at the strange moment; Bruce included.  Slade patted Dick’s back a couple times, awkwardly. Soon, after, Dick released him.</p><p>“I, uh…I mean…” Slade cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”</p><p>“He’s a good man.” Cassandra stated. She placed a hand on Slade’s shoulder. He could see his other sons trying to hide their smiles at all the different exchanges.</p><p>“He is.” Bruce agreed. He strode over to where Slade was standing and pulled his head down for a kiss. He could hear Dick and Cassandra cheering, Damian’s ‘tt’ sound, and Jason and Tim pretending to gag at the sight.</p><p>He pulled away smiling up at the man in front of him. “Stay?” He asked.</p><p>“For as long as you’ll have me.” Slade smiled back at him before Slade pulled him close, sealing their lips together once more.</p><p>They were soon surrounded by the rest of his family, their smiles bright and their laughter filling the air around them. Bruce never thought he would be able to have a moment like this again with his family. But he is very glad that he gets to be here now, with the most important people in his life.</p><p>He looked up meeting Slade’s gaze. “Thank you. For bringing me home.”</p><p>“Anytime, Your Majesty.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>